


Ready To Comply

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, HYDRA are terrible, Healing, Iron Dad, Mental Abuse, Torture, and tony never really got over it, bucky has ptsd, but bucky still killed tony's parents, civil war didn't happen, everyone is scarred, except noone trusts eachother enough to give it, reader has ptsd, steve and tony angst, tony is a pretty good parent, tony probably has ptsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 86,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: The reader was taken as a teenager by HYDRA and turned into one of the most dangerous weapons ever created. On a routine mission to take out their remaining bases, the team stumble across the reader and Bucky finds himself face to face with a ghost from his past.After bringing the reader back to the Compound, the team help them to come out of their shell and try to move past the years of horror that they witnessed. It isn’t too long before a bond forms between Bucky and the reader. Slowly but surely they help to heal each other and begin to wonder whether there can ever be something more than friendship between them after all the terrible things that they did.Warnings: PTSD, mentions of physical and mental abuse, violence and torture





	1. Chapter 1

"Ready to comply,“ you whispered, not looking up from the solid concrete floor. You could sense the presence of a person in the doorway, hear their ragged and uneven breathes as if they were standing right beside you, but you still didn’t look up. You knew better than that. You could hear the footsteps getting nearer and automatically drew your legs closer to your chest, mumbling apologies for things you hadn’t yet done.

"What did you say? Are you alright?”

You didn’t recognise the voice but that meant very little here. Every few months for the last seven years they had sent another handler to try and break you in some cruel new way. Just when you thought you could take no more pain, they would find a way to hurt you even more. To tear away at those last tiny shreds of humanity.

"Do you understand me?“ the man asked, right by your side now. Even though he wasn’t shouting at you, he may well have been. His tone was in fact almost gentle, but the underlying strength was still there, which only made it worse. The ones who tried to break you with their kindness, pretending to care before snapping you in two, were the cruelest of them all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. It was easier if you never looked them in the eye. When you did, you only ever wound up hating them more - if that were even possible. Breathing heavily, already wincing in anticipation for the pain that was about to come, you whispered once again, "Ready to comply.”

He could have said anything at that point and you’d have followed his order to the letter, out of complete and utter terror over what would happen if you didn’t. More times than was good for you, you’d disobeyed and refused. Every time you were stupid enough to be defiant, they’d taken you away to remind you exactly who was in charge. Every time hurt more than the last. But it had, eventually, made the point stick.

All they had to do was speak and you’d come running.

But he didn’t speak.

He touched you.

And if they should have learnt anything by now, it was to not, under any circumstances, touch you.

Launching yourself at him, you tried to wrap your hands around his neck but before you could get a proper grip he shoved you away. You stumbled backwards until you hit the hard concrete wall. The man held his hands up in the air and there was something about him, something about his face, that almost made you question if he was truly a danger.

Almost.

You couldn’t take the risk that he was one of them and have that small spark of hope crushed. Not again. Not when it was all you had keeping you going. Fear of what to was to come fuelling you on, you conjured a blade and threw it directly at his chest. It bounced off of his shield - Why did he have a shield anyway? Did people actually still use those? - the harsh sound of metal scraping against metal threatening to bring memories you’d much rather forget back to the surface.

Fighting your own mind for control, you frantically summoned another blade and dived towards the man, knocking him off balance long enough to bring the knife to his throat. You found yourself looking him in the eyes again, unsure why you’d let yourself be so weak. You never looked them in the eyes. It hurt too much to see the emptiness, the complete and utter lack of sympathy. On a good day, they saw you as nothing more than a weapon. On a bad day… You’d repressed too many of those to risk remembering.

But this man… He didn’t wear that look. Yes, he wore the same dogged determination but beneath that was sadness. At least, that’s what you thought it was. It had been so long since you’d seen anything in this evil place feel an emotion like sorrow or regret.

Taking advantage of your moment of distraction, the man shoved you away once again, the strength of his shield against your chest certainly enough to have broken a rib or two - if there were any that had survived your last beating, that is.

You couldn’t understand why he was so hesitant to hurt you since no one had ever shown so much restraint with violence around you. In any other circumstance, it would have been admirable but you’d let go of such concepts long ago. Barely allowing him time to react, you pulled two small daggers from the air and threw them at him. Only one hit its mark but it gave you the opening you needed.

Expertly knocking the metal disc out of his hands and across the room, you kicked him square on in the chest, sending him stumbling in the opposite direction to his shield. Quick to recover, far faster than the usual men they sent to get you, he managed to block your next punch and even managed to get an elbow to your cheek.

The pair of you scrambled around the small concrete cell, never tiring in your attacks. The longer you spent fighting him, the more you worked out his patterns and the more hits you started to get. Your trainers would be proud. Or at least pleased enough that they wouldn’t punish you for being sloppy.

Finally managing to pin him down, sporting just as many cuts and bruises as him, you held your knife firmly against the base of his neck and pressed down enough to draw blood. Unsurprisingly, he began calling out for assistance - they always did. It was why you didn’t kill him straight away. It felt better to wait until someone else was watching, as if you were trying to prove a point. A point that they always ignored and made sure to punish you for later.

"Steve? Where are you? Are you alright?“

The new questions were enough to turn your head towards the door. You knew that voice. Of course you did. You couldn’t help but look up towards its owner as he stepped into the room and when you saw his face you immediately dropped your knife. How was this possible? He was dead. That’s what they’d said; he’d died on a mission. And yet, there he stood as alive as he was in your fragmented memories.

It had to be a trick. Some new plan to break you. God, it was working. Scrambling off the other man, breathing erratically as the tears flowed down your face, you backed yourself into the corner of the room and buried your face in your hands. If you didn’t look, if you couldn’t see his face, then it wouldn’t be real.

You’d comply. You’d do anything they said. Just so long as they took him away. The memories were too much to bear and the world began to fade to black.

***

Steve’s comm had gone offline ten minutes ago and Bucky was starting to get worried.

Bucky had meant what he’d said to Steve before; he was strong enough to come back to this dreadful place but he really didn’t want to face it alone. Every corner they turned, every door they had passed, had reminded him of something he’d rather forget. All the times that he had been escorted up and down these hallways, back and forth to reconditioning… It filled him with so much tension that it was a surprise he could move at all.

It didn’t help that he was jumping at every shadow. Bucky had never been in his right mind during that time. He’d never truly known what was real and what was a dream - or a nightmare. Every memory he had of this place was filled with shadows, faces that he had blocked out to forget the horrors that he had both suffered and caused in those terrible years. Being back here again was making it harder and harder for him to keep a hold on reality.

Considering that he was already so on edge, it was hardly a surprise that radio silence from his mission partner was tipping him over into the realms of paranoia and extreme anxiety. "Steve? Answer me, you punk,” he grumbled, praying that the comms would click back on any minute now. Bucky knew it was a stupid thing to hope for; this compound had been designed to prevent any unwanted transmission from either entering or leaving the base. But he just couldn’t help himself.

As his trepidation grew to unbearable levels, Bucky threw mission protocol out the window and yelled, “Steve? Where are you? Are you alright?”

Hearing sounds of a struggle, Bucky ran towards the source and flung open a cell door to see Steve pinned to the ground. Hardly the worst position Bucky had caught his friend in but that wasn’t what threw him off guard. As he met your eyes, recognition flooded his body and he felt sick.

Barely able to turn around, Bucky doubled over and vomited in the corner, only managing to keep himself upright by resting his hand against the cold, hard wall. Steve was by his side in an instant and asked, “Do you know who she is?”

"Yes,“ Bucky coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was grateful that he’d decided to keep his hair long for it provided the perfect curtain to hide behind while he gathered his thoughts. Swallowing deeply as he stood straight, still not yet able to face you again, he breathed, "Yes, I remember her.”

"Who is she? Is she dangerous?“

"She was one of the most dangerous of us all,” Bucky said, still relying on the solid wall to keep him from collapsing. He felt so cold and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t unclench his metal hand. Steve rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly to help ground Bucky back in the present. It was clear that he was struggling against the tide of emotions that were currently bubbling up inside him.

"Is she safe to bring in?“ Steve asked, his other hand subconsciously tightening around his gun. He knew that he was completely out of his depth here, having never come across someone quite like you before, and was furious that your fate was in his hands. You were clearly dangerous but seeing you curled up in the corner as you were now, and had been when he’d found you, made him question that assessment.

Bucky frowned at the question, realising what his partner was actually asking. Finally gathering the courage to look your way, he lifted his head and felt his heart sink at your current state. He could only imagine what you’d been through. "We can’t kill her, Steve. She’s an innocent in all this. Let me talk to her?”

It was clear that Steve was far from happy with that as an option but knew that once Bucky had made up his mind that nothing would change it. And he wasn’t blind to the fierce protectiveness that had suddenly consume his friend. Bucky clearly knew you and Steve wasn’t going to stand in the way of him potentially being able to break through your shell like he himself had done for Bucky.

Nodding briefly, Steve said, “I’ll wait outside in case you need me and I’ll let Stark know about her so he can prep the Quinjet for another passenger. Be careful, Buck.”

Bucky waited for the door to click shut before carefully walking over to wear you were curled up in a tight ball. Making sure to stay at least ten steps away, forcing himself to keep a level voice, he asked, “Soldier?”

You visibly stiffened at the question, barely mumbling a reply, “Ready to comply.”

"Soldier,“ Bucky said, a little more forcefully this time. It almost broke him to see you this way - bruised, beaten and a former shell of yourself - and the anger that he felt towards the people that had done this to you slipped into his voice. You clearly picked up on the more aggressive nature of the word and Bucky heard your sobs, your desperate pleas for forgiveness.

Crouching down in front of you, all thoughts of safety pushed aside at hearing you cry, Bucky went to touch your arm before stopping himself. As gently and warmly as he could manage when he himself was feeling so dangerously unhinged, Bucky breathed, "Y/N? Y/N, it’s me. You know me.”

Ever so slowly, you lifted your head up towards him. Whilst he couldn’t see your eyes beneath the thick, tangled mess of hair that covered your face, he knew that you could see him. He gave you a smile, his lips quivering as he said again, “Y/N, it’s alright. I’m here to take you away from here.”

"Mission details?“ you whispered, burying your head in your arms once again.

"It’s no mission, Y/N,” Bucky said as he desperately tried to think of a way to reach you. Coming up with no other way to get you out of this cell, he sighed and straightened up before saying, “On your feet, soldier. Follow me.”

You did so without question, keeping your gaze on the ground as you followed him out the room. You could hear him talking to the other man but paid their conversation no attention. It wasn’t your business to overhear.

As you three walked through the maze of hallways, you soon realised that you weren’t heading to the weapons room. You always went there before a mission to kit up and be fed any important information about the targets. But you walked straight past that room. Something definitely wasn’t right.

"Wait here,“ Bucky ordered as you reached one of the main exits out of the compound. You gave a sharp nod, happy - for lack of a better word - to not have to wait outside in the cold winds any longer than you needed to.

When he returned, he was carrying a blanket. He offered it to you and smiled a little as you wrapped it around your body. Oh, it felt nice to be warm. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had the privilege of feeling something so soft against your skin. It was such a foreign texture but it felt incredible.

Daring to look up at Bucky, who didn’t shout at you or threaten to hurt you in any way when you met his gaze, you whispered, "This isn’t a mission.”

"It sort of is for me,“ he replied, gesturing for you to step out onto the roof. "I’m going to take you somewhere safe and away from here. You’re free, Y/N. They don’t control you anymore.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but it just didn’t seem real. Why, after so long, would he come and rescue you? It had been years since you’d entertained the possibility of a life other than the one with HYDRA. This pain and suffering was all you knew. This had to be a trick.

Sensing you tense up again, Bucky held his hands in the air and said, “I promise, Y/N. I swear I am telling the truth. You can check. If you don’t believe me. Check. It’s alright.”

Slowly reaching towards you, waiting for your permission before he touched you, Bucky took your hand in his and touched your fingers to his temples. Nodding for you to proceed, he closed his eyes and waited for you to see. A surge of power swelled within you as you began to access his thoughts and memories and, when you pulled away, you now had the answers. He wasn’t lying. This was real. He really was taking you away from this place.

"Bucky…“ you whimpered, burying your head in his chest as the tears flowed from your eyes. You couldn’t stop them. You didn’t want to, either. All of your feelings, your hopes and dreams of getting away, were overwhelming you to the point of being unable to think much about anything other than the promise of safety that Bucky’s arms held.

"Come on, Y/N,” he said soothingly, holding you tightly as he led you into the Quinjet. Laying you down on a makeshift bed, thrown together by piling the entire store of parachutes and blankets in a heap on the floor, Bucky set you down and promised to be back in just a few seconds.

Rolling over, curling yourself up into a ball amid the surprisingly comfortable pile, you pulled the blanket tighter around your body and closed your eyes. You listened as the jet came to life, timing your breathing to the gentle rhythm of the engines beneath you.

"She’s alright,“ Bucky told Tony, holding out his arm to stop the other man from stepping too close. They were currently over in the cockpit with the others, Bucky having deemed it the safest place for everyone to stand. He also didn’t want people crowding around you and freaking you out. "Fragile and barely there but she won’t hurt anyone.”

"Who is she? There were no records of anyone her kind of age in this base.“

"Of course they wouldn’t put her on records. She technically wasn’t theirs to keep. Not that any of us were, but her especially. From what I know, they took her from her family when she was younger. Ever since they’ve been pushing her powers and training her to be like the other soldiers. She’s so strong. Even with what I saw them put her through, she never quite gave in.”

Tony had a strange look on his face, one that Bucky couldn’t quite identify. “What is it, Stark?”

Barely more than a whisper, he asked, “What’s her name?”

"I… It’s Y/N. Why?“

"Let me see her.”

Bucky went to argue but something about Tony’s expression changed his mind. Crossing the jet to where you lay, the soldier crouched down and gently asked you turn over. You were pretty much asleep by now, practically dead to the world, but even in that state recognised an order and complied.

Beside you Tony let out a mangled sound, some strange mix of complete and utter horror and overwhelming relief. Falling to his knees, a hand over his mouth as he tried not to fall apart any more than he already had, tears streamed down his face. He reached out towards you, his hand hovering over your leg as if he were afraid to touch you and find out if you were really there.

"Are you alright?“ Bucky asked, despite the answer being perfectly obvious. "Stark… Tony, do you… Do you know her? Do you know Y/N?”

Tony looked up at the soldier, so in shock that he was barely able to do something as simple as nod. It took him multiple tries to form the words, and when he managed them they were shaking at best, but he finally said, “She’s my daughter.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Your daughter?“

"I promised I’d look after her when her parents died…” Tony whispered. His voice was shaking as he reached out to brush the hair from your face but stopping himself at the last second. Bucky met Steve’s gaze from across the jet to silently ask for assistance when Tony buried his head in his hands, his entire body shuddering as he tried not to sob. 

"I’m sure you did look after her, Tony,“ Steve said, crouching down beside his friend and awkwardly patting him on the back. He’d never seen Tony in such a terrible state; it was almost as bad as when he’d first found Bucky. Broken. So full of guilt and despair that it seemed that he would never be able to push through it.

Guilty for never realising that Tony had ever had a family, Steve mentally slapped himself for ever thinking that this supposedly selfish, playboy - which he’d learnt over time that Tony was far from - would be incapable of looking after or providing a life for anyone other than himself. Everyone on the team had people they cared for; of course, Tony would too. The Captain had just assumed that if Tony actually accepted a child or family were his responsibility (there were many rumours of illicit Stark kids flying around, all claiming abandonment) he would have hidden them away the same way that Barton did.

"Why did you never mention Y/N?” Bucky asked, gently lifting your sleeping head and slipping an old hoodie from Natasha’s cupboard under you for a softer pillow. The movement seemed to disturb you a little but when he squeezed your shoulder your twisting and turning stopped and you drifted back into a light sleep.

"Bucky… Not now,“ Steve hissed warningly.

"I thought she was dead. JARVIS and I…” Tony breathed, his voice wobbling at the mention of his former AI system. He had Vision but everyone knew that he still missed his bodiless friend. They’d been through a lot together and, whilst no one could quite understand the bond they’d had, JARVIS’s ‘death’ had caused Tony a lot of pain. “We searched for months. There were no signs. No word either way for over a year and I gave up on her.”

“You had your reasons, Tony,” Steve said. “You weren’t to know that HYDRA took her. And if you had, we know now how careful they are with their… um, assets. If Y/N was as useful to them as Bucky says, they would have kept her completely off the grid. Even JARVIS wouldn’t have been able to find her.”

His careful and well thought out reassurances were completely ignored by Tony, who heard Bucky mumble, “Y/N never gave up hope.”

Steve’s head whipped around to his friend, on his feet in an instant and pushing Bucky into the furthest corner of the jet. Shoving his shoulder, Steve practically growled, “What the hell are you doing, Buck? Why are you being such a jerk to Tony?”

"You know why, Stevie. All those resources at his fingertips and he stopped looking for her, for his daughter, because it got hard. Everything they put her through… I put her through…“ Bucky slumped against the cool metal wall of the jet, no longer bothering to try and hold himself together. Seeing you had brought it all crashing back and the only reason he hadn’t succumbed to the darkness was knowing he needed to protect you. Above all else, he had to keep you safe and giving in to his own pity and regret would do nothing to help you.

Steve’s anger slowly gave way to understanding and he joined his friend on the floor, still keeping a careful watch on Tony across the jet (who was sat almost catatonically by your feet, still too scared to reach out and risk the heartbreak that this was nothing more than a horrible hallucination). The atmosphere in the Quinjet was the most intense that it had ever been. It felt like a single breath would be enough to push them all over the edge.

"Buck… Where you and Y/N… Did you… The soldier, I mean…” Steve stumbled over his words, not entirely certain how best to approach such a sensitive topic. He needed to know as much as he could about your time with HYDRA but was loathed to gather the information if it meant Bucky losing control - which seemed a distressingly likely outcome, in that moment. “Were you two together?”

"No. No! Stevie, she was still practically a child. Why would ever think that?“

"I didn’t… I just had to ask, Buck. You know that. What can you remember about your time with Y/N?” Sensing his friend tense up beside him, his metal hand now twitching uncontrollably despite Bucky’s attempts to keep it still, Steve immediately backtracked and said, “Never mind. Forget I asked. Were you her friend? Or whatever the, uh, soldier equivalent was?”

Bucky actually let out a gruff laugh, although it died on his lips when he lifted his gaze to Tony’s still figure. His voice cold, the way it always became when he talked about HYDRA, as if reciting facts rather than memories, Bucky explained, “Soldiers didn’t have friends. The bonds between them… us… were more like… I can’t really describe it. It was more than just being a team. The trust between us was implicit because the mission always came first. We knew that no one would drop focus and the job would be completed no matter the cost. The end goal kept us together, perfectly in line. Y/N, though… HYDRA knew she was dangerous even before they started messing with her mind.

"She went through more handlers than the rest of the soldiers combined in her first few weeks alone. It reached a point where they were considering just terminating her and accepting the loss of such a potentially valuable asset.” Bucky cringed at the thought of you being nothing more than a mindless weapon, worthless unless you followed orders.

Pushing the thoughts aside, fully aware of the methods used to force you to comply, he continued, “I remember the day that Y/N was given her final warning. She was so scared but refused to hurt anyone. Refused to hurt me. They decided to use that to their advantage and I effectively became her handler. If she stepped out of line, it was me that was punished. I trained her. I kept her focused on the mission. Once she was in too deep, responsible for too many deaths, she stopped fighting their orders and just did as she was told. At that point, I was no longer necessary and they sent me away to another base. A few weeks later, they told me that she’d died in an explosion. I lashed out and they wiped my mind. Same as after I saw you.”

"I’m sorry pal.“ Steve knew there was really nothing more that could be said so just sat there silently, waiting for his friend to say something, anything, else.

Bucky gave him a wobbly smile in return, absolutely devoid of any and all happy emotions. "She’s alive. That’s what matters.”

"Are you sure you’re alright, Buck?“

"I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m more worried about how Y/N is going to deal with this. I was in and out of the ice for years. I wasn’t active for any more than a few months at a time. It’s been almost five years for her.”

"She’ll be okay. She has you to help her through.“ Catching the caged look on his friend’s face, Steve frowned and asked, "You are going to help her, right?”

"Of course I am, Steve. Of course I am.“

"Go sit with her then,” the Captain ordered, giving him a hand up.

Bucky gave him a little salute, an almost genuine smile gracing his lips, before taking a seat by your head. He was grateful when Steve led Tony up the cock pit, distracting him with the logistics about your presence in the Compound. It was enough to pull Tony out of his shell; he could deal with those questions. They were problems that he could fix.

Chatter soon died down in the Quinjet, until FRIDAY opened a channel with the Compound to let the others know of your impending arrival.

As the engines of the jet slowed and came to a halt, even though a practically silent process, you immediately began to stir. The bay door to the jet opened to Natasha and Sam, who had both been waiting at the landing pad to help unpack or demand an instant debrief. The instant that they stepped into the jet, you opened your eyes and drew your legs to your chest.

Natasha looked between the guys questioningly while Sam, probably the most qualified in the entire compound to recognise trauma in a person, crossed the space towards you. Bucky held up a hand to try and stop him from coming any closer but was ignored. Big mistake.

Suddenly surrounded by unfamiliar faces, one such face coming straight towards you with a determination you only ever saw in handlers, you visibly stiffened and backed against the wall of the jet. Flicking your wrists and summoning a blade in each hand, you threw your daggers at the approaching man without a second thought.

If not for Bucky’s quick reactions, practically tackling you down to the ground, you would have perfectly hit your mark. Instead, one of the blades simply caught Sam’s arm, drawing a neat, barely present line through his t-shirt and across his skin.

As you looked up at Bucky, his hands firmly holding down your wrists to stop you from conjuring any more weapons, he was heartbroken to meet your empty gaze. There was no sign that your true self existed, or had ever existed. You were a soldier, understandably feeling threatened and trapped in the confined space of the Quinjet.

You fought blindly against his hold, attempting to thrash your limbs with a physical power that was beyond anything someone your size should possess. Utilising as much of his own strength as he dared, trying so carefully not to hurt you but knowing that he could not risk letting you break free and harming the rest of the team, he breathed, “Y/N… Soldier, stop. Stop.”

For a moment, he thought you were gone completely. That your brain wouldn’t even recognise a direct command. However, something about his face sparked a memory in your mind and pulled you out of your blind trance. Bucky recognised the change instantly and his suspicions were confirmed when you turned your head and waited for further orders. You went limp beneath him, no longer fighting against his hold and seemingly just accepting your fate.

Releasing his grip, Bucky pulled you up with him and, a hand on your back to guide you in the right direction, shoved past the others in the jet without a word of explanation. For lack of a better idea, simply knowing that he needed to get you somewhere quiet and away from people, he led you through the compound to his room. Bucky sat you down on a chair by the window and locked the door - more to stop anyone else walking in and spooking you than actually locking you in.

Giving himself no more than a few seconds to get a hold on his emotions, Bucky took a few deep breaths and paced the length of his room three times. Convinced that he could do this, he crouched down in front of you and asked, “Y/N, do you know who I am?”

He was hardly surprised when you said nothing.

"I need to get you cleaned up, alright, doll?“ he said, voice shaking a little as he took in the true extent of your injuries for the first time. A combination of new and old marks marred your skin, covering you with bruises of every shape, size and colour and cuts and scars from too many different sources to properly identify. Bucky ran his fingers over an especially nasty scar on the back of your hand, remembering exactly how that one had been caused.

Clenching his hands to stop them from shaking in fury towards the people that had done this to you, Bucky grabbed a first aid kit from the bathroom and began cleaning up the most recent of the wounds. You didn’t flinch once and Bucky wondered if you were really in the same room as him. Still, he kept going, not really knowing what else to do to help you.

When he asked you to remove your jacket you did so without question before going back to staring at the same spot on the wall that you’d been watching for the past hour. It wasn’t even a particularly interesting spot, in Bucky’s opinion at least (and he had spent many hours just staring blankly at the wall), but he understood the need to dissociate. To just be away from everything. Your surroundings. Actions. Thoughts. So, he left you be.

"This’ll hurt,” he warned before clicking your shoulder back in to place. When even that didn’t elicit a reaction, Bucky started to worry a little. He crouched down in front of you and asked again, “Do you know who I am? Or where you are?”

No response, again.

An almost frantic knocking on the door pulled Bucky’s attention away from your blank, catatonic gaze. He gave your shoulder a squeeze, promising to be right back even though he knew you wouldn’t respond. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure that you could hear him but he refused to let that stop him from treating you like a real person.

He didn’t need to open the door to know who was on the other side. “Tony, you need to leave,” Bucky said, stretching out his metal arm to block him from entering the room.

It wasn’t easy to turn Tony away, not with his pain so clearly written across his face, but Bucky had to think about what was best for you. He didn’t claim to have all the answers - in fact, he had almost none - but he just knew that you weren’t ready to see anyone else yet.

Checking over his shoulder to ensure that you were still alright, despite having only checked mere moments ago, Bucky sighed, “I’m sorry, Tony, but if you burst in here with the way she is right now… Y/N’s confused and scared and I am the only one that has any idea how she’s feeling. You have to give me the time I need to help her adjust to being free of HYDRA before throwing her old life back in her face.”

"Y/N’s my family, Bucky…“ Tony was using all his strength not to break down in front of the soldier but even that was quickly fading. He was barely bothering to hold back the tears now or the way that his hands were trembling almost uncontrollably. Leaning against the wall, needing the support of something solid by his side, Tony pleaded, "I have to see her. I need to know she’s alright.”

"She’s not alright, Tony. She may never be alright again but I’m going to do everything in my power to help her try and reclaim the person she was. For now, though, you have to leave. Y/N doesn’t know what’s happening to her right now and if she sees you… It might just push her over the edge. I’m sorry, Tony. It’s for the best.“

The hardest thing he’d ever had to do, Bucky closed the door and asked FRIDAY to deadlock it shut before Tony could try and talk him around. Slowly crossing the room to your side, Bucky whispered your name, a tiny, traitorous bubble of hope rising in his chest when you turned to face him. "Can I sit down?”

You nodded, flinching slightly as he perched on the opposite end of the sofa. Bucky immediately held up his hands in the air, proving to you that he wasn’t armed and had no intention to hurt you. You didn’t seem convinced but that was hardly a surprise. What did come as a surprise was your question, “Am I safe here?”

"Oh, doll,“ Bucky breathed, his entire body softening as the sadness and fear in your voice hit him. It was as if you’d already given up the fight, seen too much to believe that this could possibly be true. "I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

And like that a switch flipped.

Those five words sparked a hundred memories of kindness and friendship and hope that had been buried so deeply in your mind that no brainwashing or torture could take them away. You collapsed into his chest, weeping so uncontrollably that Bucky feared you would never stop. You were nothing more than a limp body in his arms, only his strong grip keeping you from falling through the floor into a never ending darkness.

"I’m here, doll. I’ll keep you safe.“ The soft words had the desired effect as your sobbing began to slow, your heart rate returning to something almost normal and what little tension remained draining from your body completely. Stroking your hair, whispering calming nothings into your ear, Bucky held you tightly until you fell asleep in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is a flashback to just before when the reader was taken by HYDRA

"I’m sorry, miss, but I really cannot let you in. Mr Stark is testing out the new modifications to the suit and it is not safe for you to be around.“

"JARVIS, I don’t care what he said. If you don’t let me in right this second I swear I will just smash the glass. That’d probably scratch me up really good so if you don’t want me to hurt myself - which I know you don’t - then you’ll open this door right now…” You felt a bubble of satisfaction as the lock to the lab door clicked open. Smiling sweetly, you practically sung, “Thank you, J.”

You immediately wished that you’d headed JARVIS’s warnings more closely for a chunk of metal flew right past your head, catching your cheek and breaking the skin enough to draw blood. Diving down under the nearest desk, you shuffled yourself forward to watch Tony testing his guns out through a crack in the desk, knowing that this was by far the safest place to watch from (aside from outside the lab, of course, but the view from here was much better).

Stifling a laugh when the rockets on the armour boots finally gave out and Tony came crashing down on top of one of his - and your - favourite cars, you poked your head around the side of the desk and asked, “Is it safe to come out now?”

"For god sake, Dum-E, do I look like I am on fire? Back off, alright?“ Tony pushed himself off the hood of the car, looking completely heartbroken at the damage that his landing had caused, before suddenly registering your question. "Oh, yeah, it’s safe. What you doing down here, sweetie? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

"JARVIS let me in,“ you said, smirking as the AI tried to argue his case. You walked over to where Dum-E was now sulking and patted his arm, understanding his disappointment that the test hadn’t ended in actual flames. You never saw the robot as excited as when he got to put out fires. In fact, you thought it was so adorable that sometimes you’d sneak down and set little fires - only little ones, mind - for him to put out for fun. You were pretty sure that Tony knew you did it but since you’d not yet burnt the house down he never complained.

Resting comfortably against Dum-E, you added, "And it’s spring break. No school this week.”

Tony stopped mid movement at your words, his deft fingers freezing over the latch he was undoing. Scrunching up his face, he turned towards you and asked, “Wait… What day are we on now?”

"Thursday.“

"Shit. Kiddo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise that you were off this week. Have you been sitting around all week on your own?” When you nodded, Tony let out a groan and threw the armoured gauntlet down on the nearest work station. You grimaced as the metal hand bounced along the surface before disappearing over the edge but Tony just waved it away, boasting that it was made of such strong materials that nothing could damage it.

You raised an eyebrow at that, not convinced in the slightest. “You said that about my mobile but I still managed to break that.”

"Using C-4 which, by the way, you still haven’t told me where you got it from.“

Tapping the side of your nose, you jumped behind the desk when Tony leapt straight at you and laughed, "I’ve got to keep some secrets, don’t I? Isn’t that part of being a normal teenager? And you did want to try and give me a normal life.”

"Most kids don’t hide military grade explosives under their beds,“ Tony pointed out, although he seemed far more proud than annoyed at that. It was a harsh world - you both knew that more than most - and he had always been perfectly accepting of anything that made you feel just that little bit safer. Even it was something as over the top as C-4.

Slumping into the chair at his desk, Tony pushed aside a jumbled pile of papers (unintentionally sending them flying across the lab) to make space for you to perch on the edge. He threw his head backwards, closing his eyes for a moment, before straightening up and asking, "You haven’t spent the week sourcing more explosives, have you? Because if you wanted some, I could just teach you how to make them instead.”

As tempting an offer as that was, you shook your head and refused; you did, however, make sure to add that some day in the future you may very well take him up on that offer. “Spent most of it out on the roof, practising my meditation.”

The mere mention of meditation made Tony groan. When you’d first started meditating a few months ago he had tried to do it with you but he just couldn’t sit still long enough. Whenever he did finally manage to quiet his mind long enough to almost feel peace, inspiration would hit and, before you could stop him, Tony would disappear down to the lab to work on it.

You didn’t mind though. Knowing from the very start that Tony would hate it, you’d appreciated the effort but actually found being alone on the roof very relaxing. With the sun beaming down above you, warming your skin as the ocean tides crashed on the rocks below, for a few hours a day, the world seemed a kinder place.

"Is it helping?“ Tony asked, his face dropping as if he could hear your thoughts on the completely unfair nature of the world. When you didn’t answer, he reached over and shoved your leg. "Earth to Y/N. Talk to me, sweetie. Is it helping?”

"I think so. It’s good to step away from everything for a while and pretend that things had happened differently.“ You gave him a sad smile, feeling the tears in your eyes. Blinking them back and taking a deep breath, you looked up from the ground and said, "If nothing else, it really has helped improve my focus and I’ve been practising. Look.”

Squinting ever so slightly as you pictured your intended outcome in your mind, you flicked your wrist and let out a whoop of joy when a small, red handled dagger appeared in your hand. Tightening your fingers around the handle, you smirked and waved it around in front of Tony’s face. “It’s so cool, right? I’ve tried to work on changing the sizes and stuff but can’t really work out how to do that yet. Isn’t it pretty, though?”

You carefully flipped the dagger in the air, catching it by the blade (something you’d did often for fun now that you knew how not to cut yourself) and held it out for Tony to take and inspect. As always, Tony’s eyes lit up at your blade and he immediately had JARVIS begin running scans on it.

You’d only been able to control when you summoned the daggers for a few months and were still trying to learn everything you could about them and your powers. Beforehand, they’d only appeared in times of great stress or crisis - hardly the right time to stop and go down to the lab to conduct research. But since you’d gained a little more control over your abilities, you and Tony had been running tests whenever you could. 

"I approve of the colour,“ Tony said, nodding happily as he crossed the lab to help himself to some coffee. He held a mug in the air, wordlessly asking if you wanted some too, and then returned to the desk with both cups and half a bag of slightly stale doughnuts.

"Yeah, I like it too. Something about hot red that feels badass.”

Suddenly more serious, Tony asked, “How are you feeling, Y/N? Really?”

"This week’s been hard,“ you answered honestly. For a brief moment you’d wanted to lie. To say that everything was fine and that you had found a way to move on from the pain. To hope that maybe, if you lied once more, it might be the time that made it true. But it never did get easier so you’d stopped pretending everything was okay years ago.

Tony sighed, his guilt shining out clear as day. He reached out and took your hand. "I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve been working so hard on the suits and the tech for the team, trying to keep everyone else safe and protected, that I didn’t even register the date. I should of done; you are so much more important than them and I’m sorry. We can go see them, if you want?”

"It’s okay. We don’t have to do that…“ you mumbled, diverting your gaze back to the floor. Focusing on the strangely shaped coffee stains - of which there were many - you bit the inside of your lip as you tried in vain to keep your emotions in check.

"Well, I’m going to go. I think that you should come too, even if you stay in the car.”

"We really don’t…“

"Yes, we do,” Tony said, the decision clearly made. When he was this determined about something, you knew nothing was going to change his mind. Realistically you knew that you would have given in anyway, since you did want to go and see them even if it was going to hurt, so acquiescing now seemed the easier option.

In true spirit, as he did every year, Tony let you pick the car. Despite having been subjected to five years of car talk, you’d never actually learnt anything about his prized collection of motors and always made your choices based on the colours alone. You considered the black - bearing in mind your destination it seemed the most respectful - but eventually chose the blue, knowing that it had always been their favourite.

When you arrived at the graveyard, you sat silently in your seat, watching the other people passing by in a daze, for a good thirty minutes. Eventually, Tony placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a comforting squeeze. “If we don’t get out now, we never will.”

You had barely taken ten steps away from the car when the tears began to flow. Tony wrapped an arm around your waist and let you bury your head against his side. Stroking your hair, he placed a kiss on the top of your head and whispered, “We can come back another day.”

"No. I want to do this,“ you said determinedly. Straightening up, taking a deep breath, you walked the path you knew all too well until you reached your parents’ graves. Tony placed another kiss on the top of your head before stepping back and walking away round the corner to give you some privacy. He always stayed near enough that he could see you but never intruded on your space.

Kneeling in front of the simple stone marker, you ran your fingers over their names, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated since the last time you’d visited. "Hi mum. Dad. I miss you.”

No longer wanting to hold back the tears, you let them flow as you spoke to your parents tombstone. You were barely able to get the words out in anything more than incoherent sobs but you liked to think that they understood you anyway. “Tony’s being great. He’s busy a lot now so we don’t spend as much time together as we used to. I’ve got exams at school. They’re as dull as you always told me they would be.

"And Tony… Well, I mean, of course he’s busy. He’s Iron Man. You’d laugh at him, dad. He looks so ridiculous sometimes when he’s testing out the armour. When he’s gone he leaves me with JARVIS, do you remember him? He’s a lot friendlier now than he used to be. I always worry that Tony won’t come back, though. I mean, I understand. He’s saving the world, just like you used to do. You’d be proud of him.”

Furiously wiping away the tears that continued to fall, you pulled a small, wild daisy from the grass by your side and placed it at the base of the stone. "I’m sorry I didn’t bring proper flowers. I know you always liked daisies, though, mum. I always keep a vase of them by my bed. You were right; they are the happiest flower… God, I miss you…“

"It’s alright, sweetie,” Tony said, suddenly appearing behind you and wrapping you up into his arms. You let his embrace surround you entirely, hoping that it would block out the pain of knowing that your mum would never see another daisy or that your dad would never see his best friend get blown up by one of his suits. When it didn’t, it only made you sob harder.

Smoothing down your hair and cupping your face in his hands, Tony lifted your puffy eyes from the ground and said, “I know it isn’t easy. Trust me. It never gets easier. But we do what we can to make them proud and as long as we remember they aren’t gone.”

You knew that his words would make you feel better later - they always had a way of sticking in your head until you needed them most - but right now seeing Tony so open and vulnerable, the memories of his own parents’ deaths weighing heavily on his mind, they didn’t help at all. Not bothering to wipe away the tears that continued to fall, you whispered, “I wish they were still here.”

"Oh, sweetie, me too. Your dad was one of my best friends. I think every day that he deserves to be here more than me, looking after you and watching you flourish. He’d do so much better a job than I am.“

"You’re doing the best you can, Tony,” you said, completely meaning every word. “And I love you for it. I know you were only ever supposed to be my god parent. You were so great at that. Always giving me the best presents and making my friends jealous. I know that when you were offered custody over me that you were so scared of trying to fill dad’s shoes. You’ve not been perfect but you always do your best. Even when you were being held in Afghanistan, I knew that you’d come back home and you did. Dad would be proud of you. I’m certainly proud to call you my dad.”

The tears that Tony had been holding back fell from his eyes as he squeezed you even tighter in his arms, as if he were scared to let you go. You’d never seen him cry so openly before and weren’t quite sure how to respond. So you just returned the hug, clinging on to him as you both mourned the loss of you parents.

When you finally gathered yourselves back together, you whispered a final prayer for your parents and promised to come back soon. You hadn’t realised just how much their memories had been weighing you down but speaking to them, actually acknowledging their absence and trying to move forward, made you feel so much lighter.

"Thank you, Tony,“ you said as you pulled back up to the house later that evening. "For dragging me back there. It helped. It really did. I feel a little less… lost now.”

"Any time, kiddo. Whenever you feel lost, I promise that I’ll be here to help you find your way back.“

"I know.” You pulled him into another hug before finally releasing him and asking, “Can we get pizza? I really fancy pizza.”

***

"Sir, there is a call on the line from SHIELD.“ JARVIS’s voice interrupted your game of scrabble, where you were winning by a margin of almost a hundred points (although that may have been down to the highly controversial use of the word eargasm). "There is a situation in Colombia and your assistance is required.”

"Can’t they send one of the others?“ Tony asked, frowning at having his first real evening in with you for weeks interrupted. When JARVIS assured him that they were asking directly for him, Tony sighed and patted you on the shoulder. "I’m sorry, Y/N. We can finish the game tomorrow?”

You agreed and followed him down to the lab to watch him suit up. It was always one of your favourite ways to pass the time. When the armour was completely in place, Tony gave you a salute and promised to be back by sunrise. Waving him goodbye, you clambered back up the stairs and stretched yourself out onto the sofa, promptly falling into a deep sleep.

It was the shattering of glass that woke you. Out of nowhere the enormous windows behind you broke into a million tiny shards, letting the cool night air come whooshing in. You drew your legs up to your chest against the cold when a pair of hands grabbed you in the darkness.

Kicking and screaming, you panicked and all your thoughts of meditation and calm vanished from your mind. Instead, you simply flailed your limbs around, flinging blades off in every direction without a thought as to where they may end up. It did little to stop your attackers though.

You felt a sharp pinch at the base of your neck and a coldness spread beneath the skin as whatever they’d injected you with began to flow through your veins. Seconds later you could no longer feel your body and your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. It wasn’t long until you lost complete control of your faculties and a darkness descended.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stop,“ The Soldier’s husky voice ordered from across the room.

You’d barely moved a muscle, simply rolled over and twitched your hand as you’d stared at the door opposite you. It seemed so close and in the semi darkness no one would be able to see you sneak away. At least that’s what you’d thought. But before you’d so much as swung a leg off your hard bed frame you’d been found.

Completely frozen in fear of the punishment that was to come, for even in the short time that you’d been here you’d realised that punishment always came, your entire body stiffened. Your throat so tight that you were barely able to speak, you breathed, "I’m sorry.”

"Don’t apologise,“ he grunted. "There are cameras. They see everything.”

Your eyes were adjusted enough to the dim lighting to see where The Soldier’s gaze went, pointing out the five incredibly well hidden surveillance devices. They were so small that, even now knowing of their existence, you’d never have been able to spot them without his assistance.

Very slowly, making sure that your movements would register as nothing more than possibly scratching your head, you tapped your ear so to ask if they were able to hear anything said in the tiny concrete room. When The Soldier shook his head, you let out a sigh of relief although that quickly turned to confusion. Even though no one could hear you, you still whispered, “Why not?”

"I snore.“

For the first time since waking up in this terrible place, you let out a shaky laugh that quickly turned into a sob. It felt wrong to feel anything remotely positive here. All positivity was sucked away into the cold, hard walls, disappearing before it could turn into anything remotely resembling hope. And if that didn’t happen, they’d just beat it out of you. Rolling on to your back, feeling a sharp pain as you put pressure onto your bruised and broken rib cage, you weren’t sure you could take any more of that kind of mental "readjustment”.

"Why is there really no audio?“ you asked, not bothering to wipe the tears away as they rolled down your cheeks. You wouldn’t give the monsters watching the satisfaction of knowing just how close you were to breaking.

"The nightmares.”

"You haven’t had one tonight.“

"I haven’t slept yet.”

"Oh. Is that because of me? Because I’m here?“

"Yes.”

Grimacing as you rolled back over to face the soldier, you caught a strange look on his face. It wasn’t aggressive but it didn’t exactly seem kind either. Compared to the glares that the other soldiers reserved for you, though, it was almost friendly. Not entirely sure what to say, but needing to say something to fill the silence, you promised, “I won’t hurt you.”

The Soldier scoffed and rolled his eyes at you, shifting slightly so his flesh arm was beneath his head and supporting his neck as he fixed his gaze in your direction. “I’d kill you before you tried.” A heavy pause later, during which you actually wondered if the soldier was planning on drawing a knife on you, he said, “You need to stop moving. It’ll draw attention. And make your ribs worse.”

His tone was clinical but you could swear there was something else beneath it. You may well have been imagining it; after all, this was the most care anyone had shown you for over a month. Still, you were sure there was a hint of worry there. Maybe an echo of the person he’d been before becoming The Soldier.

That was a whole other story you needed to put together but you’d worked out the gist by watching and listening to the men that worked in the compound. He’d been doing this for a long time but couldn’t remember much. He barely seemed to remember the target of his last mission, let alone anything about his life before HYDRA. You wished to be so lucky as to forget about everything you’d been through.

"Get some sleep,“ the soldier said. "You’re going to need it.”

"Why?“

"Interrogation. It will hurt.”

You swallowed deeply, half wondering how anything that these terrible people had in store could possibly be worse than what you’d already been through. You closed your eyes and tried to slow your breathing but the fear of what morning would bring made that exponentially harder. There was no way you could survive another day here. Your body just couldn’t take any more pain. And as for your mind… It was already so close to breaking that you knew one more day of suffering would be the end of you.

The tears that leaked from your eyes once more, rolling down your bruised and bloody cheek, offered a momentary reprieve from the pain. The softest touch that you’d felt for weeks, reminding you that there were those in the world capable of kindness. A strange warmth sparked in your chest, so brief that you could have simply imagined it. Despite everything, that tiny moment of strength was enough to stop your tears. To quell at least the worst of your fears for a second.

Hope.

What a dangerous thing it was.

***

"Get off of me!“ you yelled, kicking and screaming as rough hands dragged you from your bed less than an hour later. The bound your hands behind your back, effectively stopping you from summoning any weapons to try and battle your way out. You really should have known better than to resist but that flicker of hope…

"Shut her up,” the nearest guard hissed, shoving you down the corridor with such power that you tripped over your feet - or possibly one of the other men’s, who thought it was amusing to watch you skid along the ground.

A weight pressed down on your shoulders as a man held you down, cheek squished against the cold and filthy concrete floor, as you squirmed hopelessly beneath the man. You screamed when a sharp needle pierced your neck, an ice cold liquid flowing into your veins and paralysing you where you lay. Dragging you through the compound became so much easier after that.

You were strapped down into a metal chair, in a room that you could have sworn came straight from a nightmare. It was too bright. Artificial. So much worse than pitch black. It had to be easier to deal with this dreadful reality when you couldn’t see the faces of your torturers. When they were just shadows in the night, monsters in the dark, it was almost easy to pretend they weren’t real.

Even if you’d had the strength left in you, if it hadn’t been drained away by the paralytic, you would never have been able to break free of these restraints. They were designed to hold down even The Soldier himself, with his powerful metal arm capable of doing more damage than a speeding freight train.

Another injection, this time burning you from the inside out, and you found yourself able to move your jaw enough to speak. When you did, telling these bastards exactly what you thought of them, they made sure you regretted it. By the time that they finally stepped away, your broken skin was so sensitive that a mere breath in your direction from the nearest guard stung more than the firmest slap.

One of the men pulled up a chair, sat opposite you with a cold and collected calm. He barely blinked as you struggled against the restraints, thrashing and screaming with the little energy you had left. In fact, he just rolled his eyes and you felt a sharp pain shoot through your skull as another guard hit you until you found the sense stopped struggling.

"Stop struggling. I only wish to talk,“ the man said, a slight accent that you couldn’t identify any further than being from some kind of Eastern European country. It was hardly the worst of your worries but focusing on something that small helped to make the rest of the horrendousness a tiny bit more bearable. "Do yourself a favour and cooperate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to scream until your throat bled, but a silver shine in the corner of your eye stopped you. The Soldier was standing there at the doorway, watching everyone with an intensity that scared you. It was like he was analysing you all, identifying the strengths and weaknesses of all present, looking deep into your minds. However, where you would have used that information for your own gain in an attempt to break out, he simply seemed to be collecting it and then deleting it. Using the exercise as a means of testing his observational skills.

It took you a moment but you noticed that he was purposefully avoiding your gaze. Admittedly, he refused to meet the eyes of any of the armed men in the room but he was actively avoiding looking in your direction. The single time he did, the warning underlying his otherwise hard expression was clear. Do what you’re told. Comply.

Staring at the ground, you slumped into the chair and nodded at the man. “I’ll answer your questions.”

"Smart choice, girl.“

"Just ask your questions.”

"Don’t be insolent,“ the guard to your left grunted, clocking you around the face with the thick grip of his gun. You turned your face away too quickly and it hit your cheek bone directly, stars erupting into your vision. He drew back for another strike but stopped mid movement when the man in charge of questioning you shook his head.

"Enough. You’re enhanced.”

"That’s not a question,“ you mumbled, instinctively flinching against a blow that, thankfully, didn’t come. Biting down on your lower lip, reopening one of the wounds inflicted from an earlier beating, you said, "I’m not enhanced. I’m just a normal person. Please… Let me go home.”

"You’re enhanced,“ he repeated, leaning forward in his chair and crossing his hands in his laps. "You can conjure weaponry from thin air. Who performed the procedure? What else are you capable of? To whom do your loyalties lie?”

The questioning continued for hours, merciless and never ending. Round and around. The same questions rephrased and reworded to try and trip you up. Make you say something, anything, that they could possibly latch on to and use to dig deeper. But you had none of the answers that the man seemed to require.

As the questioning dragged, and you became increasingly tired, both yours and your interrogator’s patience began to wear dangerously thin. Encouragement to answer - physical blow from the armed men at your sides, always in the same spot to inflict the most possible pain - became more frequent and more aggressive until your face was so swollen that you could barely keep your eyes open. So, they injected you with another strange serum that made your eyes burn so much the only reprieve you could get was to keep them wide open. 

"You have one last chance, child. Tell me who made you this way. Tell me who you fight for.“

"No one!” you yelled. “No one made me! I don’t fight for anyone! Let. Me. Go.”

Restricted by the thick restraints, you twisted your wrists and summoned a blade, thrusting into the thigh of the guard on your left. His scream echoed around the small room and before the shorter man at your other side could react you slammed another dagger into his stomach. You fought against the metal bands holding you down but, as you’d noticed before, they were too strong. You were trapped.

"Soldat!“ your interrogator yelled, urging The Soldier into action as he dived to safety.

His expression blank and completely devoid of all emotion, negative or otherwise, The Soldier moved so swiftly that he avoided each of your incoming blades with ease. He wrapped a hand around your throat, pushing you into the chair and cutting off your air. As the world started to blur, he released the pressure enough to allow you to gasp for oxygen before then blocking the supply once again.

"Wipe her!” a new voice ordered, one that made even The Soldier go rigid.

You had no time to turn your gaze upon the handler (not that you knew him to be one in that moment) for many pairs of hands were suddenly busying themselves around you. A foul tasting mouth guard was forced between your lips, so harsh and misshapen that it cut the soft tissue inside your cheeks and drew blood.

Enormous metal plates closed around your face, pressing hard against your bruised and battered flesh. At some point those holding you down had stepped away for their own safety but you hardly noticed. You could barely hear them talking over the harsh crackle of electricity flowing from the device around your skull and into your brain, a strange string of words that you didn’t recognise. They weren’t English. Of that you were sure.

It hardly mattered, though. Not when every second pushed you another inch into madness. It felt as if your mind was being pulled in a million different directions, shattering like a pane of glass, those sharp shards of insanity tearing up your skull from the inside out. Worse than any torture that they’d subjected to you. Far beyond the skills of mortal men.

And so loud. The sound of your mind tearing and being forced back together again. It was so loud. Despite that, though, all you could hear were those words… Those terrible words. Over and over again from the man walking around you. Burning into you, stringing together the fragments of your mind and holding them together in a new shape, binding and caging your thoughts in twisted bonds.

Even over the sound of your screams the words were clear. You couldn’t ignore them. There was no way; not if you wished to escape this with some semblance of sanity intact.

As the words burrowed deeper into your brain, filling up all the tiny spaces between neurons, a strange calm began to settle over you. The pain didn’t subside at all but it became so much easier to ignore. After all, you could hardly focus on something as mundane as excruciating pain when your mind was being flooded by random thoughts and memories that didn’t belong to you.

You tried to reconcile the images with your own past but the harder you tried to place them the more convinced you became that these were not from your own mind. Somehow, you were pulling them from the thoughts of those around you. Whatever they’d done to you, it had opened your mind to something more than before. Something inexplicable and wonderful and absolutely terrifying.

Of all the windows leading into the past that opened before your eyes, only one held your attention for more than a moment. It belonged to The Soldier, you were sure. You didn’t know how you knew, but there was no way it could possibly belong to anyone else. As you reached out to try and grab it, the image became fuzzy. All of the images became fuzzy and faded away.

The psychosis dimmed and your surroundings once again came into view. A sickness in the pit of your stomach threatened to overwhelm you but whatever was in those drugs that they had pumped in to you stopped your body from reacting in the way it should. You would never get the reprieve you so desperately needed.

As your awareness returned, you realise that the men were shouting at you. They’d unhooked you from the chair and almost seemed to be laughing at the way that you remained of your own accord. A good sign, one said. A very good sign indeed.

Another claimed to finally have broken you, although you didn’t feel that way. Empty, maybe. But broken? No. It was something far worse than that.

When you made no attempt to move, you were shoved from the chair and hit your knees on the floor with a force that could do them no good. Ignoring the sharp burning that now ran through your legs, overcoming what should have been a paralysing pain, you pushed yourself on to your feet and stood perfectly still, waiting for something to happen.

A face - the interrogator - filled your vision, his smirk as harsh and terrifying as any fairytale villain. Looking down his nose at you, he asked, “With whom do your allegiances lie?”

"With you.“ The words left your lips before you’d even registered them. You hadn’t meant to say that. Had you? It didn’t seem to matter, though, for it made the man smile.

He motioned for The Soldier to take you back to your quarters to await instruction. You were to be trained and taught the skills necessary for a successful mission. They didn’t even pause to think that you might refuse. What a shock they’d have in store.

You were in no fit state to try and fight your way out of this today, though, so you nodded and followed The Soldier back to your shared room. As you passed through the door of the lab in which you’d been held, you accidentally brushed your arm against his and a blinding light filled your vision. His memories, the ones you’d seen before, reappeared.

Again, they were shouting. Those terrible men. Demanding to know what you were doing. Why you were struggling. Running. They held you down, dragged you into a dark room. Beat you until you stopped whimpering.

It really was better in the darkness.

Shoved against the concrete wall, held up only by their strength, they demanded a report. You knew instinctively that refusing was wrong. Again they asked for, commanded, a report. Smart enough to recognise that there would be no third questioning, you stated blankly, "I saw his thoughts. His memories.”

"Whose?“

"The Soldier’s.”

"What did you see?“

"I don’t know. There were too many strands to focus.” The threat of another beating hanging heavily over you, you tried to describe what you’d seen. The memories were already fading. It had only been a brief connection, barely enough time to make a link at all, but you forced yourself to remember. “He was young. His friend… so small. Ill. Always ill. Little Stevie never getting better.”

"What else?“

"I don’t… I don’t know…” The man shook your shoulders, so roughly that you banged the back of your head against the wall. Another fragment came back, although it wasn’t clear. You had no idea what was going on. No idea where they were. What they were doing. But one question hung so heavily in your mind that it wouldn’t shake: “Who’s Bucky?”

You should have kept your mouth shut.


	5. Chapter 5

There was something reassuring about waking up on the floor.

You’d woken sometime last night in a bed that was way too big to be yours, and too comfy as well. The sheets were soft against your rough skin, a far cry from the thin and tattered wool blanket that usually ‘protected’ you from the cold morning air. You were used to sleeping on nothing more than a thin mattress - which was about as yielding as concrete and so short that your feet hung over the edge. That level of luxury was beyond anything you could have imagined. Beyond anything you deserved.

So you’d switched to the floor. It was infinitely warmer than any of the compounds you’d stayed in, definitely heated by under floor pipes of some kind. The sound of water running through the system beneath you was, for a while, surprisingly relaxing. You kept your ear to the ground, shuffling so that you were directly over a pipe, and just listened to the unrelenting movement. It was hypnotic, drawing you into a state of utter calm.

And you hated it.

Pushing yourself against the wall, knees curled against your chest, you tried to think of anything that would stop you from slipping into a silent compliance. Only when you were following orders were you as calm as you had just been. Digging your fingernail into the pad of your thumb, you focused on the sharp pinch. It helped to centre your mind. To remind you that you were more than their mindless puppet.

You could think for yourself. You could hate yourself. Everything you’d done. You hated it so much that it was a physical kind of pain in your gut, spreading through your chest and to whatever was left of your heart. Ripping out whatever was good - not that there could be much of that left anymore. It hurt far more than any torture. But it still had to better than being a blank slate.

Eventually you had slipped back into a light sleep but it took only the slightest sound to jolt you from your rest. Your eyes flung open and, expecting the worst, you clenched your fists by your side and bowed your head. You couldn’t kill another handler. You’d been warned; this was your last chance or risk cryo. People were never the same once they came out of the ice. There was no way that you could risk going in there, having that tiny spark of hope frozen.

So, you kept your head down. If you didn’t see their face, the urge to fight back diminished substantially. They became nothing more than a shadow hanging over you. A controlling darkness which you knew you couldn’t fight. Compliance washed over you and you waited for your orders.

None came.

Instead, a gentle voice whispered, “Y/N? Breathe, doll. It’s alright. I’m here.”

You jerked away as they reached out to touch you but that didn’t seem to dissuade them. The split second that they rested a hand on your arm, you summoned a thin dagger and held it to their throat, pressing the sharp tip into the delicate spot just above the sternum. When they didn’t back away, you briefly lifted your eyes to their face to see whether they were paralysed with fear or simply too stupid to know better. It turned out that it was neither.

"I know you,“ you breathed as your blade clattered to the ground.

"That’s right,” he said, not so subtly knocking the dagger out of your reach. It was a futile gesture, after all you could always just conjure another, but for a short moment it made him feel safer to know you weren’t armed. “What you doing on the floor, doll?”

Staring at the bed like it was about to grow teeth and swallow you whole, you said, “I sleep better on the ground.”

"Oh. Okay. I’ll find you a blanket for tonight then, if you want?“ Bucky’s question was met by you with silence and he sighed, leaning back against the bed frame. He tilted his head back onto the mattress, wishing there was something more he could do to help you. It made him feel utterly useless.

All he could think do to was to wrap you up in his arms and hold you tightly. He didn’t, though. Even when the silent tears began rolling down your face, he didn’t pull you against his chest or cradle you until you calmed. Bucky knew, or at least suspected, what you were going through. He’d been through the same. After what you’d done, there was no way you could believe that you deserved that kind of love or affection.

Now that you were fully awake and aware of your surroundings, the reality that you were free from HYDRA would be settling in and threatening to overwhelm you again. All this supposed new freedom, luxuries beyond anything you could remember, there was no way to know whether you would be able to cope with it. Having blindly following orders for so long, how could you possibly go back to living a life of your own? Especially if you couldn’t remember life before HYDRA. That torture was literally all you knew. Bucky understood that completely.

He gave you the space you needed but Bucky was still watching you intently, although desperately trying to hide the fact. You noticed, of course. After all, you were just as well trained in surveillance as him, perhaps more so. It was so familiar to silently watch on and falling back on that behaviour actually made you a little more comfortable.

"You sound different that I remember,” you pointed out, slowly uncurling your legs and stretching them out in front of you. Whilst you still weren’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t a trick of some kind, being around a familiar face did make you feel slightly less tense. This man had looked out for you before. He surely would again. “You still watch me the same way, though.”

"And what way is that?“

"Like I’m dangerous.”

"You are,“ he said honestly, after a long moment’s pause. Lying to you would do you no good, that much was clear. In a way, it was almost reassuring to hear someone say the words aloud.

"Where am I, Soldier?”

"Bucky. My name is Bucky, Y/N. You know that.“ He reached out and hovered his flesh hand over yours, trembling a little as the indecision whether or not to touch you wrung through him. Throwing caution to the wind, he linked his fingers through yours and felt an enormous wave of relief when you didn’t pull away. In fact, you actually tightened your hold and clung to his hand as if it might save you from vanishing into the abyss.

Tracing the line of a scar on the side of your hand, saddened when you flinched more at the gentle touch than you had at any physical attack, Bucky asked, "How do I sound different, doll?”

"You call me doll, for one. I suppose that your voice is softer, warmer. Friendly. More evasive.“

"Evasive?”

You nodded, your lips twitching ever so slightly. From the first moment that Bucky had joined you on the floor, you’d been watching him intently. Every time he looked at you, guilt flooded his expression and it only shone brighter whenever something relating to HYDRA came up. Mentions of the Soldier. The sight of any mark inflicted upon you during your ordeal or seeing you just as broken as he had been a few years before. It was hardly surprising that he would be evasive in an attempt to avoid that pain.

The Solider… Bucky… He was trying to keep you both safe from the horrors of the past. It was meant as a kindness, you knew, but his avoidance was only making it harder for you to process what was really happening to you. Letting your gaze drift around the room in the same evasive way that you were accusing him off doing, you said, “Tell me where I am.”

"We’re at the Compound,“ Bucky said, acquiescing. Sending a kind smile your way when he felt you stiffen at the name, he shuffled forward a little in an attempt to make you feel more protected. "Don’t worry. It isn’t anywhere near as bad as it sounds. Not like other compounds we’ve stayed in.”

His words unintentionally opening the link to his memories, your mind was filled with blurred moments from the past. Bucky felt your carefully maintained mental balance snap before he actually saw your expression. He tore his hand out of yours, breaking the connection between you. “Y/N, doll… Don’t switch off. You need to stay here with me. Forget those places. Y/N. Y/N?”

"I’m not going anywhere. I can’t. The door’s locked.“

Bucky frowned, although you could tell that he was more relieved you hadn’t gone catatonic than anything else. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he asked, "How do you know that the door is locked?”

"I checked it after you fell asleep last night. Does it open from the inside or the outside? I couldn’t find a key.“

"You searched the entire room for a key without waking me?”

You nodded, not taking his subsequent approval as a compliment. Being able to sneak around a room in the dead of the night to gather information hardly seemed something to be proud of - especially considering the circumstances in which you’d learnt and frequently used the skills. Of course, it helped that Bucky actually appeared to be quite a heavy sleeper (except when in the throes of a nightmare), much like you remembered of The Soldier.

Realising that you were still without an answer, you asked again, “If there isn’t a key, how does it open? Is it some kind of biometric system? You know that you can’t keep me locked in here.”

"I’m not going to keep you locked up, Y/N,“ Bucky said, trying to smile in an attempt to reassure you. It didn’t do much good though; you knew that, no matter what he said, that he would keep you confined here until he thought you were no longer a danger. Whether that was to other people or yourself, you weren’t entirely sure.

"Tell me, then. How does the door work?”

"FRIDAY controls it,“ he sighed. You were surprised how easily Bucky had surrendered to your questioning. The Soldier had rarely given up any kind of tactical information, no matter how hard you’d pushed. It was so strange to you how simultaneously similar but different these two sides of the man before you were.

Sensing your confusion, Bucky explained, "FRIDAY is the Compound’s AI. She controls all the systems, helps to run all the tech, monitors the security. It’s quite impressive really. You can ask her to do basically anything, tell you anything. A bit sarcastic now and then but polite enough if you don’t piss her off. You don’t need to be worried about her, though. It’s just friendly surveillance to keep everyone safe.”

You snorted at that, hardly convinced that any kind of surveillance could be “friendly”, but had to admit that knowing someone - or something, at least - was always watching made you feel a little more at home. “Does everyone have an AI system now?”

"This is the only one I know like this. You can ask her anything. Give it a try?“

"Oh. Okay. I don’t… I don’t know what to say…”

"Ask her anything.“

"FRIDAY?”

"Morning, miss. What can I do you for?“

"I want you to open the door for me.”

Beside you, Bucky actually laughed. He patted you comfortingly on the leg when FRIDAY informed you that she didn’t couldn’t do that. “Sorry, doll. Soon enough, I promise.”

Leaning away from the wall for the first time, you propped your elbows on your thighs and rested your chin in your hands, eyebrows raised so high on your forehead that Bucky wondered if they were about to jump off your face and enjoy a new life on their own. “When will 'soon enough’ be? You know that I don’t deal well in enclosed spaces like this. There’s not even a window.”

"I know, Y/N. I’m sorry but this is one of the safest spaces in the compound. We didn’t know where else to put you. FRIDAY, can you let me know when it’s all clear so we can grab some breakfast?“

"No problem, Sergeant. Boss wants to know if you’ve got any news for him?”

"I want to speak to whoever is in charge,“ you said.

At the same time that FRIDAY said, "I can patch you through,” Bucky shook his head and said louder, “That’s not happening.”

He quietly apologised to the AI before turning his attention on you. Shrugging his shoulders, Bucky said, “I told you, doll, I’ll give you answers soon enough. You just have to wait a little more time. I swear that everything will be alright now. You’re safe here.”

"So you keep telling me. Why is she Irish?“

"I don’t know,” Bucky answered honestly. It was never really something he’d questioned, there being far too many other things to sort out upon his arrival to spend time worrying about why Tony had made his AI Irish. He was hardly surprised that you wanted to know the reasoning behind it, though.

Bucky was getting uncomfortable perched up against the bed frame so rose to his feet and paced a few lengths of the room to stretch out his muscles. Resting against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest - a surprisingly familiar gesture, reminding you an awful lot of the way that The Soldier used to stand and watch the room - Bucky asked, “Were you expecting her to sound different?”

You opened your mouth to deny it but something stopped you. There was something there like an itch in the back of your mind that made you reconsider. A smart, sarcastic system capable of running everything. It felt so familiar. But the whispers of the past, the ones that just wouldn’t quite solidify as you reached out to grab them… They weren’t Irish.

"Close your eyes and let it wash over you,“ Bucky said, sensing your growing irritation from across the room. You wore a look he knew well. Severe, near consuming frustration over knowing that parts of your own mind were closed off to you, possibly forever. It had to be even harder for you with your abilities to read the memories of others with such ease. It was hardly fair to know the mind of another so intimately when you barely knew yourself. 

Still struggling to recall every moment of his own past, Bucky was determined to help you regain yours. Unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into his pyjama pockets, he said, "I’ll keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. Just close your eyes.”

Reluctantly releasing your control, you let the memories roll over you. Most were terrible images relating only to your torture at the hands of HYDRA. You tried to push through those awful memories but they threatened to swallow you whole. If not for Bucky’s gentle voice guiding you back into the light, you may well have gotten lost in the depths of your mind forever.

Distantly aware of his hand on your shoulder, Bucky’s meaningless encouragement pushed you on until you met with a blank wall. It was like a bright light, physical and completely impenetrable. Your whole life before you were taken, locked away just on the other side of the barrier. In sight but out of reach. Just as you were about to give up, a single name appeared on the tip of your tongue.

JARVIS.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky was crouched down in front of you looking beyond concerned. Apparently, you’d been silent for almost ten minutes and hadn’t responded to a single thing the whole time. “Are you okay? What did you remember?”

"JARVIS. He was a system like FRIDAY. He was English, though. Not Irish.“

"Oh. Right.”

"You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? I can see it in your face. Is he still, uh, alive? Active?“

"I might not be the right person to explain that, doll.”

"Try.“

"It was before I joined the team, Y/N. I don’t know the ins and outs, exactly…”

"Bucky…“ you warned, practically growling at him. It was all you could do to keep your anger in check and you actually considered sitting on your hands to stop yourself from summoning a new pair of daggers. "Where am I, really? Who owns this building? Who did FRIDAY mean when she said 'the boss’?”

"This is the Avenger’s Compound. I doubt that HYDRA filled you in on them or not given the circumstances but they… We… Protect the Earth. As for the boss… He’s not technically in charge of us since that’s more Steve’s domain, at least out on the field, but he funds the team, comes up with all the tech…“ Noticing your growing unease, Bucky decided to just spit it out. Surely that would make it better? He decided that it surely couldn’t make it much worse. "His name is Tony Stark.”


	6. Chapter 6

"Tony Stark..." you breathed, the name tasting harsh and metallic, like blood, on your tongue. You searched Bucky's face for any trace of a lie or deception or something to explain why he'd do this to you but it came to nothing. You pushed him aside with such unexpected strength that Bucky crashed into the frame of the bed so hard that it snapped on impact. "Get away from me!"

You were on your feet and huddled into the furthest corner of the room in an instant, arms wrapped tightly around your mid-rift and forehead pressed against the cool wall. You didn't want it to be true. Tony Stark. This had to be a trick, some kind of new mental torture. Bucky was still dead and you were trapped in a cell, holding on to that last spark of hope that you would one day be rescued. Any minute now your handler would reappear and you'd be sent on another mission.

Over and over their words played in your head. Amid the violence, in those brief moments of reprieve while your body was paralysed in shock or fear or compliance, they would say those terrible things on repeat until you could recite them in your sleep. Tony Stark doesn't care about you. No one cares about you. They left you here to die. He left you here. You are nothing except a means to an end. Our end. Hail HYRDA.

"Y/N?" Bucky called from across the room, his quiet whisper sounding more like a fevered shout to your addled mind. "I'm coming over to you, okay? It's just me and I'm not armed. It's just you and me in here."

You heard him getting closer but it didn't really register in your mind. You were trapped somewhere else, eyes scrunched together so you wouldn't have to face that darkness. Their words on loop, taunting you, cutting deeper than any blade could. The harsh sounds pulled you further into your mind, leading you through a labyrinth filled with the worst monsters that you could ever imagine. How awful that those monsters were all variations of yourself.

It could have been seconds or hours later when you came back from the depths of your mind and found yourself huddled in the corner, exactly as you'd been when they'd found you. The room was cooler, the chilled air giving you goosebumps up your arms. It was familiar. Made you feel calmer. A fraction more in control. Slowly opening your eyes, expecting to see the cell you called home, you were met with the same sight as before. A bedroom that wasn't yours. Actual furniture. Bucky.

He was back down by your side in the blink of an eye, offering you the blanket around his shoulders. You shook your head, actually preferring the cold. "No, thank you. You keep it."

You splayed your fingers on the carpet for no other reason than needing to focus on something to keep your mind from falling back in on itself. If it tried to convince you that you were once again back with HYDRA, you weren't sure you'd have the strength to pull yourself out of that hole. You listened to the sound of Bucky's breathing, trying to match your own to his soft, slow breaths. Concentrating so hard on lowering your heart rate, you didn't realise that you'd leant into him, resting your head on his shoulder, until you were far too comfy to pull away.

"Sergeant Barnes, the kitchen's clear if you breakfast. Boss had me warn everyone to stay in their rooms for the hour so you won't be disturbed."

"Thank you, FRIDAY," Bucky said, looking to you questioningly. He was trying to be subtle about it but you knew what he was thinking. He was trying to decide whether you were stable enough to a) be allowed to leave the room and join him for breakfast outside these confines or b) be left behind on your own while he grabbed something to eat and brought it back to you.

Running a hand through his hair, unable to get a read on your mental state now that you once again had that blank expression plastered on your face, Bucky decided to leave the decision up to you. "Are you hungry?"

"Please don't patronise me, Sergeant. I'd rather you were upfront than hide behind niceties. What are left of my feelings are hard to hurt, believe me."

A moment's hesitation and then Bucky gave up the pretences of civility and asked gruffly, "Is it safe to let you out of this room? Will you kill them?"

"I assume that they've been warned to stay away from me and so long as they do everyone will be fine." Pushing yourself onto your feet, you glanced expectantly at the door when he said nothing. Your eyes hard as Bucky refused to order FRIDAY to unlock the door, or to even stand up himself, you said harshly, "If worst comes to worst, you can always order me to stand down. You know that they made me compliant to The Soldier."

"I'm not that person, anymore, Y/N."

"Are you sure? You're certainly acting more like him now."

Bucky ignored your question and instead asked FRIDAY to open the door. You stayed a few steps ahead of him - despite himself, knowing that you were unlikely to lash out, he felt safer knowing that he could always keep his eyes on you - and diligently following his directions until you reached the kitchen.

It was a silent affair, neither of you wanting or needing to make conversation while you prepared the food. It had been years since you'd had a proper breakfast like this, with sausages and bacon and beans and eggs. It was like something out of a dream. Bucky presented you the food on a plate and you sat opposite one another around the island.

As you looked down at your meal, the smell of the food was overwhelming - and not in a good way. You suddenly pushed it across the counter and turned to the sink, emptying what little was in your stomach down the drain. Rinsing your mouth out under the tap, you kept your eyes down and apologised. "I'm sorry. I can't eat that. I thought I could but I can't."

"It's alright, doll," Bucky said soothingly, all his earlier irritation gone. He stood behind you and cautiously laid a hand on your back, gently rubbing circles as you gripped the countertop. "We'll make something else. Porridge? Toast?"

"I'm not hungry, anymore."

"You've gotta eat something, doll. Come on, sit back down. Drink some tea. It's alright, Y/N. I should have known you wouldn't be able to eat that after... well, whatever it is that you've been surviving on the past few years."

"Energy packets," you mumbled, swearing when a few drops of tea spilt over the edge of the mug. Your hands were shaking so much that it was a miracle that the entire lot hadn't gone down your lap. Bucky wordlessly handed you a cloth to clean up the small spill.

Dabbing at the mark on your trousers, you said, "They came up with a supplement that had everything I needed to keep me healthy and fit but always a little hungry. There was other stuff in it too. It made my muscles stronger. Meant I could fight longer. I can't remember the last time I had proper food."

"We'll start slow with toast, then," Bucky decided, for no other reason than it was faster to prepare than porridge. There wasn't really much literature about what to feed someone in your unique position. Still, he made a mental note to talk to the more scientifically inclined members of the team to see if they could come up with something similar that might help your body adjust to eating regular foods more easily.

Thankfully it turned out that toast was bland enough for your stomach to cope with, although you did make your way through nearly an entire loaf of bread before you felt even close to full. It wasn't the most exciting meal you'd ever had - or at least you assumed not; you'd been eating HYDRA's food packets for so long that you couldn't remember ever eating anything else - but you were glad to have finally eaten something. Your stomach felt a lot more steady and the dizziness you'd been feeling was starting to pass.

Without a warning, you jumped off the stool and backed against the nearest wall, immediately summoning a dagger for protection. "Who's there? Bucky... You said no one else would be around. I can't... Where are they?"

"Calm down, Y/N." Bucky said, pinning you to against the wall to stop you from doing anything dangerous. His grip was too tight to wriggle out of, even when he removed one hand to tear the blade from your grasp. He threw it across the room and gripped your shoulders, pressing you into the hard wall until your breathing slowed a little. "Doll, it's just you and me here."

"And him," you hissed, thrashing against his grip as you caught sight of the man you'd heard moving around moments before. All the fight drained out of you when you took a proper look at the red skinned... man? You weren't sure what he was, but it wasn't human. There was a bright yellow stone in its forehead, shining and shimmering in a way that made your head pound.

In your panic, you let your control of your powers slip and you could feel the memories of those nearby tugging on your mind. That was the thing about memories; they almost wanted to be seen and when you were scared, as you most certainly were now, you didn't possess the control to block them out.

The memories centred around the yellow stone felt wrong but you couldn't pull away. The images were real, these were all events - terrible events - that had happened but there was no real emotion attached to them. More like a clinical recording of an event rather than something that had been lived through. And they were cold. So cold.

Bucky's voice cut through the images, his stern tone tearing you back. "Let them go, Soldier. Enough."

You dropped the second dagger you'd conjured to fight away the images, the metal clattering on the floor as you finally stopped fighting against Bucky. Your voice quivered as you asked, "Who are you?"

"I apologise, Sergeant Barnes," the thing said in far too familiar a voice, addressing Bucky rather than answering your question. "I did not realise that you would still be here with Miss Stark."

"Get out of here, Vision. Just back away slowly."

"Don't!" you yelled. Bucky flinched as you were right beside his ear but he lessened the pressure on your shoulders, aware that you were almost completely back with them. It wasn't enough to stop the sharp stabbing pains that ran down your arms as he held you up against the wall but they almost helped you stay focused. Meeting the gaze of the red skinned man over Bucky's shoulders, you said, "Tell me who you are."

"I am Vision."

You laughed but it felt like sandpaper on your throat. What right did you have to laugh? To feel even remotely happy or amused by life? Shaking your head, you said, "That means nothing to me."

"I am an android. I was created with Dr Cho's technology and my mind is formed of many matrices; Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Ultron, JARVIS and the Mind Stone."

"You're JARVIS?"

"JARVIS is a part of me, yes."

"But he's gone?"

"That depends on your point of view. As you remember him, JARVIS no longer exists but he lives on within me."

You looked back at Bucky and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He stepped away very slowly, metal hand still hard against your shoulder until he was convinced that you were no longer going to try and jump the android. Finally letting his arm drop, your feet once again on the ground, you said stiffly, "It's good to meet you, Vision."

He returned the sentiment, showing no obvious signs that he didn't mean it. The android made no attempt to hide the fact that he was studying you, trying to gather as much information about you as he could possibly could. Eventually meeting your caged gaze, having reached his conclusions, whatever they may have been, Vision said, "If you wish to talk sometime, I would be more than willing."

Bending down to pick up the blade that Bucky had made you drop, just as something to hold, to ground you in your thoughts, you caught glimpse of something in Vision's eyes that you had not seen for a very long time. "You aren't scared of me."

"I have no reason to be," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Physically, I am far stronger and, even with whatever enhancements HYDRA made, you are no match for me. I also believe you to mean me no harm."

Out of curiosity more than any kind of malice, you threw the dagger in his direction. Your jaw fell open as his body shimmered the same golden yellow as the stone in his head and the weapon passed straight through him. Having expected him to simply catch the blade mid air, you admitted, "I was not expecting that." 

Vision pulled the dagger from the cupboard door in which it had embedded itself and crossed the small space to hand it back. He moved in the most unusual way; as fluidly as a human might but still jarred and stiff like any other machine. When his hand brushed yours, you were surprised that, unlike Bucky's metal hand, you could feel a warmth from Vision's metallic skin.

"If we are to be companions, Y/N, I would prefer you to only use me as target practise during training sessions. Perhaps, once you have acclimated to the Compound a little more, we can find time to discuss our abilities. I would certainly be interested in understanding your powers more."

The last people that had wanted to understand your powers had strapped you into a chair and tried to wipe your mind. They'd beaten you and muddled your brain and made you kill who knew how many innocents. With those memories at the forefront of your mind, Vision's words should have struck you down with an unimaginable dread.

But they didn't.

So you nodded and even tried to give him a smile. Although you could hardly remember how to after so long, the android appeared to appreciate your attempt. "That would be... helpful. Thank you, Vision."

Once Vision left you two alone, you sat at the centre island in silence as you stared blankly out the window and Bucky pretended not to be worried about you. Eventually, he led you to a private gallery in the Compound where you could just sit against the wall and watch the outside world without being disturbed.

Bucky left you to your thoughts but always stayed somewhere in sight, lurking in the corner not unlike The Soldier used to. Of course, The Soldier hadn't sat in jeans and an indecently tight t-shirt with an anti-stress colour book. That was definitely new.

The day passed quite peacefully, all considering. No one dared to come and check on you, instead sending messages to Bucky's phone just making sure that you were both still alive. It actually made you think that there was a chance for you here. That maybe you could slip back into a real life, without HYDRA, and go back to being you.

Unfortunately, your body had other ideas.

It started slowly, like maybe someone had just turned up the heating in your quiet corner of the Compound. Your skin grew uncomfortably sticky and the sweat soaked through your thin shirt until it was literally dripping on to the floor around you. You went to call out to Bucky but a sharp pain in your stomach stopped you and it was all you could do not to throw up on the spot.

Crawling across the hallway, barely able to keep a straight line across the five foot width, you managed to make it no further than a small potted plant before you emptied your stomach into the ceramic pot. As that wave of nausea fell away, another hit harder.

By then, Bucky had realised something was wrong and appeared at your side, concern radiating off of him. Catching you in a brief moment of reprieve from hurling your guts out, more than worried by the deathly shade of pale green you had gone, Bucky said soothingly, "Y/N, I'm just gonna hold your hair back, alright?"

Your answer was lost amid another round of sickness, even worse than the last. Facing an attack on three fronts (a killer pounding headache, seemingly unending vomiting and continuous shivering despite the raging fever), it was a miracle that you held on to consciousness for as long as you did.

When you woke up you were in a bright room, a machine beeping steadily at your side. Your first instinct was to tear out all the drips and feeds that were currently hanging out of your arm. Too many times you'd woken up in one of HYDRA's medical bays to have them pumping you full of god knows what and you were damned if you were going to let it happen again.

As you fought to rip the needles from your skin, not caring about the blood that flowed down your arms, you felt a strong pair of hands on your shoulder, holding you down. You thrashed against the weight but were just too weak to make any kind of difference. It didn't stop you from fighting, though.

"Y/N, please stop this," Bucky said, although it took you a few seconds to recognise his voice and calm down just enough for him to feel confident in letting you go. "You're okay. I'll keep you safe. It's alright. I'm here."

You looked up at him, your heavy eyes itching so much that you wanted to claw them out of your skull, and asked, "What happened?"

Brushing the hair from your face, Bucky rested his elbows on the edge of your bed and smiled tightly. His eyes flickered up to the screen at the bedside, taking in all the readings to check for the hundredth time that you were alright - or as alright as you could be in the circumstances. "The doctors can't be sure but they said the symptoms were very similar to drug withdrawal."

"I'm not... I've never..."

"I know, doll. It's okay. No one is saying that you've taken anything."

"Then how?"

"They don't know. They took some blood to do a few tests but I'd lay bets that the nutrient packets that HYDRA fed you had a mix of stimulants and suppressants alike to make you more compliant. I had a similar thing when I first got free. It'll be alright, Y/N. I promise it'll get better. The doctors are going to help you. I'm going to help you."

"It hurts," you groaned, a sharp pain in your stomach causing your entire body to spasm. You brought your knees to your chest, curling into the foetal position and praying that the pain would stop. "Bucky, it hurts..."

Bucky looked around the medical wing for something to help with the pain, eventually spotting a cabinet of sedatives. You tried to grab his hand to stop him from leaving when he stood but were so paralysed with the pain that your fingers merely twitched in his direction. He wiped away your tears when he returned and said, "I know it does, sweetheart, but this will help."

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "No more needles. Bad memories..."

"Look at me, Y/N." Bucky's metal fingers brushed your cheek, the barest of touches enough to pull your attention from the gnawing knot in your stomach for just a moment. You forced yourself to open your eyes and meet his gaze, biting on your bottom lip to stop from crying.

A sharp fire suddenly shot through your arm and Bucky gave you a sympathetic smile. "Sleep, Y/N. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Don't leave me alone," you begged, the effect of the sedative already kicking in. It wasn't like flying, though. It was cold and harsh and pulled you into a terrible darkness. An all too familiar darkness.

"I'll be right here, doll. I'll keep you safe. Always."


	7. Chapter 7

The days that followed were the worst of your life.

Given what you’d been through in the past, that may have been a slight exaggeration but you really weren’t in your right mind to contemplate weighing them up against past tortures. In fact, you weren’t really in a right mind to contemplate anything. As your body struggled to deal with the withdrawal of whatever HYDRA had been giving you over the last few years, you barely had a single moment of clarity.

Physically the symptoms were terrible. The combination of insomnia and random, unprovoked seizures meant that you snatched no more than five minutes of sleep here or there. Your stomach would growl with hunger, so painful that you’d rather be stabbed in the gut, but the moment you gave in to the cravings you would throw the food back up.

The slightest twinge of your finger would send waves of crippling pain shooting through your body, through every fibre of muscle all the way down to your bones, making you cry until you were too dehydrated to spare another tear. It was as if you were being torn apart inch by inch and then forced back together in the wrong conformation.

As if that weren’t enough, mentally the symptoms were so much worse. Crippling paranoia that the nurses tending to you were trying to sedate you and drag you back to a secret HYDRA cell. Hallucinations that took you back to the absolute worst of your missions, making you relive each and every terrible moment.

You were in a permanent state of fear, underscored by an irrational hatred of everyone that came within fifteen foot of your bed and an even clearer hatred for yourself. If this was Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised. You almost welcomed the dissociation as it offered a few stolen moments cold, empty peace but they never lasted long.

Perhaps the worst thing of all was that your subconscious mind kept summoning blades to fight the demons that weren’t actually real. More than once you’d ended up hurting yourself, slashing away at the air to best a shadow and on one terrible occasion had leapt at a nurse and almost severed her carotid artery. If not for Bucky protecting you and every else that walked into the medical wing, you would have done terrible things in this delusional state of yours.

You were never entirely sure whether Bucky was really by your side or not (your hallucinations were so detailed that telling reality from fiction was become too difficult to bother trying) but it helped to see the familiar face either way. Most of the time he sat there talking to you about nothing in particular, the soft repetitive sounds of his voice helping to keep you present and lull you into a restful state.

Today, when you opened your eyes, the image of the brown haired soldier was clearer than before. The world had lost a bit of its blurriness and the harsh light of the incandescent bulbs didn’t burn quite so much. Perhaps best of all, the room stood perfectly still and your nausea barely reared its head at all.

"Evening doll,“ Bucky said softly, leaning forward in his chair to stretch out his stiff limbs before resting his chin on the edge of your mattress. "How you feeling?”

"Dead.“ The single word set your throat on fire, the muscles torn and red raw after days of screaming out in pain. If you didn’t know better you might have thought that you’d swallowed a thousand serrated daggers for how much it hurt to speak.

"Look on the bright side, doll. It can only get better.”

You didn’t need to tell him in words how you felt about his optimism; your dark glare put that message across perfectly. Limiting your questions to a single word to reduce the damage to your throat, you asked, “Status?”

"Well, it’s been almost eight days since I brought you in but the doctors think that come tomorrow you should be strong enough to go back to your own bed. Banner led a small team to analyse your blood and they came up with some kind of concoction to counteract at least the worst of the side effects. You’ll have to take the injections every day for a couple weeks but then they’ll slowly wean you off until you can cope without.“

"Needles…”

"I know you don’t like them but it really is the most effective way. I’m sorry. I’ll be there every time and you can trust Bruce. He’s a bit weird but a decent guy.“ Bucky smiled tightly, resting his flesh hand over yours. His skin was so cool against your burning flesh that you almost mistook it for the metal one. Feeling the heat radiating off you like a furnace, he asked FRIDAY to lower the temperature of the room. While it clearly made him a little uncomfortable, it made the medical wing far more relaxing for you. 

Bucky filled you in on random things in the news that you’d missed over the last week but it meant very little to you. Keeping you up to date with the people involved in current affairs or the lives of supposed celebrities had hardly been high on HYDRA’s priorities. It was always the mission. Find the target and eliminate them. Nothing else mattered. Context muddied the water too much; made you question whether or not the target deserved their fate.

Somehow, he seemed to sense your concentration drifting to darker places and poked you in the side. Laughing at how your forehead creased up into a tight frown, he said, "You’re meant to at least pretend to be listening to me, Y/N.”

"Sorry,“ you mouthed, saving your throat by not bothering to sound out the clear apology.

"No you’re not.” Bucky watched as your eyes began to drift shut, your body finally giving in to the urge to sleep. Considering that you’d had barely five hours uninterrupted rest since being dropped off in the medical bay, it was hardly surprising that you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Also feeling the pull of sleep himself, having never once left your side, Bucky didn’t bother to hide his yawn. Stretching out in his chair - a large, extremely comfortable one that Steve had brought in after realising that his friend wasn’t going to move any time soon - he gave you a warm, lazy smile and said, “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

He wasn’t there when you woke up.

Instead you were greeted by Vision, the red skinned android that murdered JARVIS. In your mind you knew that assessment was unfair. It hadn’t been his choice to be born - created - from the broken remnants of the AI you knew but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest knowing that that was another part of your old life that you’d never get back.

"Good morning, Y/N.“

"Where’s Bucky?” Your voice was far stronger and much more steady than it had been the night before, although it did still hurt to speak. Painfully slowly, you pushed yourself up against the headboard of the bed and took a long sip of whatever strange tasting drink a nurse had left on the table at your bedside. It was neither sweet nor savoury but did coat your throat in a kind of slimy protective layer that eased the irritation when you breathed. “Is he okay? I want to see him.”

Vision didn’t seem fazed by the fact you were speaking in barely more than a whisper, his enhanced hearing more than equipping him to make out your words. “Do not worry, Y/N. Sergeant Barnes will return soon. He didn’t want you to wake up alone, though, so asked me to watch over you.”

"Thank you.“

"Of course.”

The silence between you was thick, although not awkward or tense. There was so many low level noises in the medical bay demanding your attention; the beeping monitors, the buzzing of electricity powering the many machines and the sharp creaking of the furniture to name but a few. With your own hearing altered to pick up such minute sounds, it was giving you a terrible headache.

You were well aware of your muscles tensing, preparing for a surprise ambush which would never come, but couldn’t force your body to relax. No matter how you tried, it was like your body had a mind of its own and was functioning independent of your thoughts. That realisation only compounded the problem as you became increasingly worked up.

As a Soldier, HYDRA had controlled your body. Any original thoughts were wiped away instantly and you were ordered to follow their orders. You’d had no power over your actions; no amount of effort on your part could fight their instructions. To feel your body acting on its own accord now, as it had done under their thumb for over six years, threatened to send your mind into a frenzy.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears so loudly that you almost missed Vision calling your name. Digging your nails into the mattress with so much power that you tore through the foam topper, you turned your head to face the android and pleaded, “Help me.”

Vision gripped your wrist, firmly enough that you couldn’t tear your hand away but so gentle as to not cause any damage, and lifted your hand to his forehead. He touched your fingers to the shining yellow gem and the change in you was instantaneous.

Clarity the like you’d never felt before descended over your thoughts, all the fear and confusion that you’d been feeling gone in the blink of an eye. All the irritating noises in the room faded away into a gentle, completely harmonious symphony, existing harmlessly in the far corners of your mind.

Everything slowed down until time no longer meant anything. An eternity could have passed and you’d never have known. Your vision became tinted with a warm golden light, beautiful and fluid, swirling back and forth, round and round like wisps of smoke slipping through your fingers. It sparked through your body, lighting up every nerve in the most heavenly way. You’d never felt a power like it.

When you pulled away, you’d expected the world to seem dimmer but instead it was like you were looking upon life with a new pair of eyes. Meeting Vision’s gaze, you nodded briefly and said, “Thank you. That was…”

You left the sentence in the air, instead simply shrugging and smiling tightly. The truth was there were no words to describe what you’d just experienced. You could still feel the calming effects of whatever had just happened and as such managed to move yourself into a far comfortable position on the bed without any real hardship. “What is it?”

"We do not know. It powered the Chitauri sceptre.“

"Chitauri?” you asked. The word rang a bell somewhere but felt so foreign on your tongue. You could feel the niggle of a memory, perhaps having read the name in a text once or overheard it mentioned in a conversation long ago.

"An alien race that attacked New York under the command of Loki of Asgard,“ Vision answered, as if that explained anything. "It was kept by SHIELD for a while but HYDRA stole it after their downfall. The Avengers recovered it sometime later then used it to create Ultron and, ultimately, me.”

"What did HYDRA do with it?“

"Their scientists attempted to harness its power. They used it to give people extraordinary powers.”

You were hardly surprised that HYDRA had been interested in creating more “enhanced” soldiers. That was why they’d gone after you in the first place, recognising that your abilities would be useful to their cause. The idea of them using any technology they could get their hands on - even alien - to further that programme was practically common sense.

What you were surprised by, though, was the way Vision’s expression became just a little bit more guarded. He was hardly concerned for himself; as he’d made clear before, there was no way you could do any physical harm to him even. No. He was trying to protect someone else, a theory confirmed when you extended your powers just enough to touch the edges of his mind.

The images were unclear, just a jumbled mess of flashes, but there was one constant face present in each. You pushed just a little bit harder to clear away the interference that blurred connection to the android, shoving it aside until you saw her. A woman, beautiful and deadly, shrouded by a red mist. So angry and sad, having lost too much too young, but determined beyond belief.

You severed the link, clenching your hand at your side until the uncomfortable tingling in your arm passed, and looked up at Vision. “Who is she?”

"Wanda,“ he said softly. You wondered whether androids were capable of love, because that was certainly the closest description you knew of what he had been feeling for her. "Perhaps you would talk to her one day, once you are more comfortable here. You have quite a lot in common. Like you, she was broken and remade too.”

A flash of recognition sparked in your brain and the memory passed before your eyes. It was years ago you’d come across the file by accident - you’d been severely punished for disobeying orders by accessing irrelevant information - but the contents were still as clear as day. Now, all that information on Herr Strucker’s tests in Sokovia came flooding back to you.

There had been so many unsuccessful experiments, the number of fatalities struck covered up at every level as the scientists knew even HYDRA were reluctant to fund something so clearly doomed to fail. The twins couldn’t have come along at a better time. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. They saved the programme, their enhancements more incredible than anyone could ever have expected. They’d fallen in line with HYDRA’s ideals without any hesitation, committing to the cause and willing to give their dying breath to further their aims. Loyal to the end.

At least that’s what the files had said.

Clearly after the fall of Sokovia their allegiances had changed for now they were working for the Avengers. Or at least Wanda was. You didn’t need to ask about Pietro; you could put the fragments of Vision’s thoughts and memories together well enough to guess that he hadn’t survived the battle.

Wanda had been through so much, that was evident, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for her. Not when you knew she’d volunteered. A wave of sickness rolled through you. How could someone have chosen, willingly and without coercion, to join them?

"She chose. I was forced. We have nothing in common. What they did to me… Wanda can’t understand that. I barely knew my own name. I had to fight every single second to hold on to just that basic detail. I can’t remember anything from before they took me, Vision. They rewrote my entire life and I don’t know if the glimpses that I have are real or are stories that they invented to make me lose my faith.“

"I am truly sorry for what they put you through, Y/N.”

"Yeah. Well.“ You sat back against the headboard and closed your eyes, hoping to put an end to the conversation before it ventured back into uncomfortable territory. You’d already told Vision more than you’d meant to, even more than you’d told Bucky, and weren’t entirely sure why.

You knew nothing about the man - the machine - and yet there was something about him that made you feel safe. Perhaps it was his strength and knowing that he’d be more than capable of stopping you from hurting someone (or yourself) or maybe it was just his resemblance to JARVIS, the only real connection you had to your life before.

Either way, it made you uncomfortable.

Feeling safe led to trust which then led to hop. In your experience, hope only ever led to pain and you wanted nothing more than to be free of that. Even if it meant shutting yourself away from those that wanted to help.

"You’re looking better,” Bucky said, stepping in to the medical bay. He was followed by another man, well dressed but with extremely messy hair. He hung few steps behind Bucky, using him almost as a shield against you. That meant he was smart if he knew to take precautions around you.

Overkill, maybe, but you summoned a small dagger (barely more than a letter opener, really) just to calm your nerves. New faces made you anxious and there was something about the air around him that worried you. He looked like a normal man but wasn’t, of that you were sure. Stroking the handle of your blade, you asked, “Who are you?”

"Bruce Banner.“

Looking to Bucky, you asked, "The weird one?”

"When I told her that, I meant it in the nicest way,“ Bucky said, holding his hands in the air.

Bruce waved it away, completely unfazed by the comment. He stood at the end of your bed, twiddling his fingers as he met your gaze. "I’m the one that’s been leading the team to recreating your supplement.”

"Thank you.“

"It’s nothing,” he assured you, but you instantly recognised the lie. His eyes were bloodshot from a mixture of too little sleep and too much caffeine and his bags were so dark that they could have been easily mistaken for bruising. Whatever he claimed, Bruce had clearly been working nonstop on a “cure” for your symptoms for the past week. “You’ll come to the lab to get your injections, if that’s alright? It’s just that we’ve got all the equipment set up there and everything.”

"Do I have a choice?“

All three men answered at once, in a scarily perfect unison. "Of course.”

Bruce ran a hand through his dark hair, somehow managing to make it even messier. Tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves, he said earnestly, “You will always have a choice as to what happens to you here, Y/N. I won’t force you to do anything.”

"I’ll go to the lab. It’s fine. Thank you, Bruce.“ To Bucky more than anyone else, you said, "I’d like to leave now. If I can.”

"Sure thing, doll. We, uh, don’t really have any clothes for you at the minute but I’m sure Nat or Wanda…“ Catching the way your fingers twitched around the handle of your blade at the mention of Wanda’s name, Bucky backtracked and said, "Nat can offer you something. Then we can get you back to your room to rest.”

"You mean my cell. It’s basically a prison, isn’t it? No windows. A door I can’t open without permission. You told me it was the most secure room in the Compound.“

"Y/N…”

"It’s fine. I get it. I’m dangerous. It’s for the best.“

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He perched himself on the edge of your mattress, barely missing sitting on your feet as he did. "It’s being worked on, doll. You should have a proper room of your own rather than being stuck on my bedroom floor soon enough.”

“Wait. It’s your room? Why are you… You don’t… Are you protecting them or yourself?”

"Both. When I first got to the Compound after Steve brought me back, I hated it here. I’d been on the run for months and felt trapped. Tony didn’t really want me here after… Well, after everything and everyone felt safer knowing I was in a secure room.“

"I didn’t know.”

"There’s a lot you don’t know about us and this place, Y/N. Give it a little time, keep an open mind, and you’ll get there. I promise. Eventually, everything will work itself out. You’ll see.“


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was on holiday last week so a double update today now that I'm back at my computer :)

The largest man slapped you around the face, a fierce burning spreading across your cheek. Stumbling backwards against the wall, you cupped your jaw and fought to hold back the tears. You wouldn’t cry. You refused to show that kind of weakness even if you were suffocating on the humiliation that came from being shoved around by these monsters.

You were so busy staring down the handler that had just slapped you that you missed the second man in your peripheral. He grabbed you by your throat, his thick, clammy hand cutting off your air. “You were given an order, Soldier. You must comply.”

His grip was too strong and no matter how you clawed at his arm, nails scratching his flesh so hard you actually drew blood, he wouldn’t release his hold. Only when your head slumped forward, the lack of oxygen to your brain causing a momentary blackout, did he let you drop.

The hanging bright lights, so at odds with the dingy darkness of the rest of the compound, were the first thing you saw as you slowly regained awareness of your surroundings. You couldn’t tell whether they were actually flickering or if you were just seeing dark spots and it hardly mattered but you needed to focus on something. Noticing the little, pointless details was the only thing that kept you going.

Meeting the gaze of the second man, you curled your knees to your chest and hissed, “I will not comply.”

He grabbed you by the arm and forced you to your feet, hand once again around your neck as he cut off your air supply. The moment before you were about to black out, he loosened his grip just enough to let a sweet gust of air rush into your lungs. While you choked against his palm, he leant forward so his mouth was right by your ear, his moist breath disgustingly warm against your skin. Your eyes bulging with the pressure against your windpipe, the man said, “You will follow orders or you will die.”

Your bravery and determination only held for so long. Thwacking the man’s arm, you screamed for him to release you although no sound actually came out. He waited until you were at a peak panic - your chest heaving as you struggled to draw breath, the blood vessels in your eyes bursting as his grip tightened - before shoving you into the corner of the room.

"Enough, Petrov,“ the larger man said, boredom seeping into his voice. "A Soldier is no good to anyone dead.”

Petrov rolled his eyes but followed his superior’s commands and stepped away, leaving you huddled in the corner heaving for breath. You delicately brought your fingers to your throat, wincing as you touched the many bruises that covered your skin. At least this time Petrov seemed to have avoided fracturing any of your bones but with so much damage already present you couldn’t really be sure what was new and what was old and unhealed.

"Get up,“ the larger man - Volkov, you’d heard him called - instructed. "You will train with the other Soldiers today.”

You had enough sense not to argue. That didn’t mean you were overly enthusiastic to train with them, though. You’d been avoiding it for months, putting in the bare minimum effort when the handlers forced you to work on your physical strengths. It was gruelling and seemingly unending, beyond any kind of training regime that you’d ever heard of. But it was effective. Even with the little effort you were putting in, your muscles were growing and you had strength that you could never have dreamed of. It was just a shame that you couldn’t use it to murder your handlers in their sleep.

You had actually tried that a few months ago. It had gone surprisingly well. You’d succeeded in strangling the man but the horror of what you’d done had paralysed you and your “grand escape plan” had ended with you spending three days in solitary within a torture cell. Since then, the security around your quarters (which in their entirety amounted to the small room you shared with the brown haired Soldier) had been so tight that you could barely go to the bathroom let alone attempt another murder.

Thankfully, you were only faced with two of the Soldiers stationed in the compound instead of the entire group. One was a tall, blonde woman. She was the absolute embodiment of beautiful but deadly. Details of the other Soldiers’ missions were not easy to come by but the few files you had managed to sneak a look into told a clear story for her. 90% of the time she would seduce a target, gather information and then eliminate them on her way out. She’d been requisitioned from a training school called The Red Room so was apparently well suited to that line of work, not that the name commanded any specific kind of respect from you.

What you did know was that she had taken an instant dislike to you from the first moment you crossed paths. Maybe dislike was too strong a word seeing how the Soldiers never showed any kind of emotion but it was always seemed like she was waiting for the perfect moment to break your neck. When you fought her, she never held back even though you were woefully outclassed in ability. She would beat you into the ground and only stop when one of the handlers dragged her away.

The other Soldier was, thankfully, the brunette with whom you shared a room. He constantly kept an eye on you, either to stop you from doing stupid things and acting out or providing a calming influence when the “scientists” took you away and experimented on you. Just knowing he was there, a familiar face that wasn’t trying to kill you, steadied you enough to somehow get through almost anything that was thrown your way.

You were grateful that they’d chosen him for today’s training. As well as keeping you at bay, he seemed to have a similar effect on the other Soldiers too. Even the blonde woman - probably the strongest of all the Soldiers - bowed her head and turned away when he walked into the room. When he was around, she held back just enough to give you some semblance of a chance.

"Begin,“ Volkov said, nodding to the blonde woman after taking a stance against the wall. He and Petrov were carefully positioned behind the male Soldier, using him as a shield just in case either you or the other female Soldier decided to try something and attack them.

She wasted no time in her attack. Two steps forward, an elbow to the nose. Simply but highly effective.

You stumbled backwards, almost tripping over your feet as you did, and wiped the blood away with the back of your hand. Narrowing your eyes, breathing through your mouth as you tentatively felt the bridge of your nose, you let out a sigh of relief. Not broken this time.

Anticipating and prepared for her next attack, you dodged her incoming punch and slammed the palm of your hand into her jaw. You wasted no time feeling proud of yourself for hitting your mark, instead leaping aside and bringing your hands up to protect you face from the retaliation you knew would be coming your way.

Instead of your face, the woman kicked you in the shin and as you doubled over in pain she brought her fist up under your chin. Dizzy but reasonably stable on your feet, you leapt forward and grabbed her arm, twisting it into an incredibly unnatural angle until you heard a sharp crack. Flipping the woman over, slamming her into the ground with a little more force than was strictly necessary, you let out a deep breath when she stilled.

You looked over to the handlers, hoping that that was enough of a show for them today, but were met with blank looks. The meaning of their silence was clear. You’d been told enough times: Incapacitation wasn’t good enough. It left unnecessary loose ends. Targets were to be eliminated. No exceptions.

Your resistance to make a kill shot cost you.

The female Soldier wrapped a hand around your ankle and landed a perfect punch to the back of your kneecap. You fell down like a sack of rocks, only further shattering your knees when you hit the cold, concrete floor with a thud. She was on your back in a blink of an eye, flipping you over and pinning you to the ground. Her hand around your throat, you could see it in her blank expression that she had every intention of killing you. If not for the handler ordering her to stop, she most certainly would have done.

Gasping for air, you managed to claw yourself across the floor until you were propped up against the wall. You never took your eyes off the female Soldier, convinced that she would disobey her handler’s instructions and finish the job. It didn’t matter that you knew you were the only one that ever went against orders. There was something in her gaze that convinced you she was capable of it too.

"Get up. Go again,” Volkov ordered about five minutes later.

You did as he said, over and over again for hours. Each time you were beaten in a shorter amount of time, your body unable to keep up with such rigorous punishment. As you were backed into a corner, your panic got the better of you and a blade shot from your grasp.

The other female Soldier stopped in her tracks and looked between you and the handlers in confusion. That hadn’t been included as a part of her briefing. This was simply supposed to be a hand to hand combat training session. No weapons. Certainly no weapons summoned from thin air.

Seizing your moment, you slipped beneath her outstretched arm and picked up the blade you’d flung. You skid across the ground, tripping the woman up and caught her head between your legs, cutting off her air between your thighs. The moment her limbs stopped thrashing and her nails ceased to claw at your legs, you let go and frantically shuffled on to her chest. Using your full weight, you kept her pinned to the ground and held the knife to her throat.

You didn’t move, waiting for instruction but none came.

"Orders?“ you asked, looking up to the men. They were scribbling away in their notebooks, seemingly paying you no attention whatsoever. "Sir. What are my orders?”

"Terminate the Soldier.“

Your eyes widened at Petrov’s words. "What?”

"You have your instructions. Carry them out.“

"She is not the enemy,” you said, although you weren’t entirely sure you believed that after all the times she had tried to kill you over the past months.

"You will comply with the orders given, Soldier.“

There was a stirring in the back of your mind and suddenly everything went a little blurry. You couldn’t quite hear your own thoughts over the tidal wave of white noise currently washing over you but you kept fighting against the contradictory words playing over and over in your head.

I have to kill her. I can’t kill her.

The room was still and all you could hear was the heavy breathing of everyone present. The Solder beneath you, swallowing deeply against your knife on her throat. She knew that any movement, no matter how fast, would lead to a fatal injury. She was trapped so simply went stiff and waited for further instruction just like you had.

I have to kill her. I could kill her.

The handlers had looked up from their notebooks now. They studied you, taking mental notes of all of your ticks to note down later. All the signs that you were beginning to fight their control. The clenching of your jaw. The trembling of your hand as you fought to pull the blade away from the Soldier’s throat but were being held in place by an invisible force so much stronger than you. 

I could kill her. I don’t have to kill her.

Your gaze drifted to the brown haired Soldier. He was watching you intently, his metal fingers twitching by his side as if sharing your indecision. Usually he actively avoided looking directly at anyone so it was a shock when he met your stare head on. He was the embodiment of strength and you felt that steel ground your thoughts.

He noticed the change immediately, saw the way that your spine straightened and your expression softened just a little around your eyes, and emulated it. His metal hand unclenched, the plates up the length of his arm clicking and readjusting their position. He relaxed his stance and took the same strength from you that you did from him. After all, if you could fight their control, maybe he could too.

It was his eyes that changed the most, though. They still shone with determination and a hard energy that no one could match but there was a softness beneath them. They seemed lighter like he now carried fewer of the hardships of the world than before. It reminded you of a different version of the man you had never known.

A name circled through your thoughts, one they’d tried to wipe before.

Bucky.

You had no idea why it was important but it burnt like a flame in the depths of your mind, burning away the confusion until all that was left was an absolute clarity.

I can’t kill her. I don’t have to kill her.

"No,” you whispered. “I won’t kill her.”

Volkov drew his pistol from his belt and aimed it directly at you. “You will follow orders and complete the task.”

"No, I won’t.“ A warning shot echoed around the room and you flinched as the bullet skimmed your cheek. It wasn’t enough to change your mind, though. You were bruised and broken but refused to be beaten into submission. "I will not comply.”

While Volkov continued to bark orders at you, Petrov was far more observant. He followed your gaze and realised that the Soldier by his side was, somehow, important to you. The large man grabbed the Soldier by the shoulder and shoved him onto the ground, forcing him to kneel in front of him.

Drawing his own gun, Petrov pressed the barrel of his pistol against the back of the Soldier’s skull. Ignoring his comrade’s shouts, he said levelly, “If you do not kill her, I will kill him.”

You stared at him in disbelief, convinced that he wouldn’t throw away HYDRA’s best asset just to get you to obey. But when the safety clicked and his finger rounded the trigger, you knew this was no bluff. You were half expecting the Soldier to try and fight his way out but he stayed on his knees, head down and almost willing Petrov to take the shot.

Repositioning yourself, you pressed the blade harder against the female Soldier’s neck until her blood began to spill. You angled the knife and drew it across her throat. Volkov ordered you to stop just before you cut her major artery and you let the dagger clatter on the ground beside her as you left off her chest.

She staggered to her feet, clutching the deep wound on her neck. Blood seeped through her fingers and dripped down her arm, pooling on the ground by her feet, but she made no motion of caring. It was hardly a life threatening injury - they handlers had stopped you just in time - but it would leave a horrid scar. Just another reason for her to hate you.

"Report to medical the proceed to the hanger for mission details,“ Volkov ordered, opening the lock on the door with his handprint to let her out of the room. As soon as she was gone, he turned his attention back to you and the other Soldier, then asked Petrov, "What was that?”

"They care for one another.“

"How is that possible?”

Petrov simply shrugged, not having an answer to give to his superior. When asked how he thought they should proceed - this hardly being a situation that they’d encountered with the other Soldiers - the large man suggested, “Have him train her. At least we know she won’t disobey him or risk him harm.”

"Are you sure that that’s a good idea?“

"He’s loyal to HYDRA and for some reason she trusts him. If it gets her to obey orders then it’s worth the risk.”

Their entire conversation was conducted in hushed whispers but you heard every word. Warning you that it was in both of your best interests not to try anything stupid, they sat themselves down in the corner to discuss another order of business and ordered the Soldier to resume the training where it had been left off.

He stood in front of you, trapping you in to the corner of the room but you didn’t feel scared. However, despite knowing that he had no intention of killing you, you still flinched when he lifted his hand to your throat.

"I won’t hurt you,“ he said gruffly. You could hear the tinge of impatience in his voice, annoyed that you didn’t trust him (even though he fully understood why you might not), but he did pull his hand away and only brought it forward again after you’d nodded for him to continue.

Very slowly, he tilted your chin upwards and to the side to survey the worst of the damage. He came to the conclusion that it’d hurt to breathe for a while but you’d survive so dropped his hand and began his lesson. Commenting on your earlier attempts to escape Petrov’s grip, he said plainly, "If you’re grabbed around the neck, there’s no good thrashing out. It wastes energy. This is much more effective.”

Upon his instruction you grabbed the Soldier’s neck, wary to put any pressure on at all for fear of actually hurting him. In slow motion he showed you exactly what to do: clench your firsts, bring them up and around in an arc (not unlike the shape of an “m”) and then strike the points of your attacker’s elbow.

You yelled out in pain as he demonstrated the technique at full speed and power, cursing worse than ever as your elbow shot backwards. The handlers barely looked your direction, probably thinking that you screaming in pain meant that the training was going well.

Stumbling away, you violently shook out your arm, groaning at the sharp stabbing sensation running all the way up to your shoulder. “Warn me next time.”

"You should always be prepared for an attack,“ the Soldier stated. You swore you could see the hints of a smirk on his lips but it had vanished before you got a proper look. Lifting his arm, he gently wrapped his flesh hand around your throat. You could feel the pressure of his fingers on the bruised skin but it was nothing you couldn’t cope with. Nodding to you, he said, "Now you try.”

It took around an hour of intense practise but you eventually managed to execute the move successfully. The Soldier rolled his shoulder as he shook out his arm and gave you what could only be described as a proud look at your progress. It was understated and you really might have imagined it, maybe projecting your own feelings on to the Soldier, but it didn’t matter. You felt victorious and couldn’t wait to try it out on the next HYDRA agent who made the mistake of touching you.


	9. Chapter 9

"Stop moaning. Come on,“ Bucky said, all but dragging you down the corridor. It had been a few days since you’d been released from the medical wing and you’d not left your/Bucky’s room in all that time. Bucky refused to leave you alone and, although he hadn’t mentioned it, you knew that he was beginning to get tetchy trapped within those four walls. Hence why he was taking you somewhere to work through your emotions (which often meant stabbing things) in a safe environment.

"Where are we going?”

"You’ll see in a minute. Come on, doll, keep up.“

It was worth the effort of chasing after him. You stepped through the door that he held open and were hit by an unexpected elation at what you saw. A shooting range, complete with targets at varying distances. You walked into the middle of the range and looked around, impressed to see that it was set up for moving target practise too.

It was bright and light, roomy and everything that HYDRA’s training ranges hadn’t been. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed this. Throwing knives and practising your aim by playing games with yourself had pretty much been your only source of fun. As depressing a thought as it was, it was the truth and being faced with the opportunity to let loose a little steam in the only way you knew how filled you with a twisted sense of comfort.

Looking at Bucky, you didn’t have to say anything for him to understand. He smiled down at you and gently squeezed your arm. "Okay? You happy?”

"I don’t know,“ you answered honestly. You’d bottled up your emotions for so long, pushed them so far down so that you didn’t have to feel that pain, that you’d be amazed if they ever resurfaced. It meant that when you did feel an emotion, you weren’t entire surely what it was or how to respond to it.

You spent a lot of time in your head trying to understand your emotions with logic - often reaching no helpful conclusions. In that moment, though, you really didn’t care for working out what you were feeling. You knew you felt more comfortable here than you had anywhere else in the Compound and that was all that mattered.

Summoning a blade, you spun around on your heels and flung it at the target. A familiar warmth filled your chest when it hit the centre directly and, for the first time since Bucky had found you, and far longer if you were being honest, you had a sense of actually knowing yourself. It was dreadful and terribly twisted that you felt so comfortable as a master assassin but, for a brief moment, the truth of that statement didn’t make you hate yourself as much as normal. This was who you were and nothing could change that.

Without a first or a second thought, just completely on instinct, you threw your arms around his neck and whispered, "Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky practically beamed and held you in the tight embrace until you moved to step away. “I’ve got a few things to get done today so I figured you could entertain yourself here until I get back. No one will interrupt you, I promise. You’ll be safe to let loose a little. Is that alright?”

"How long will you be?“ you asked, looking around the range. It was empty but you couldn’t help feel like you were being watched. Catching Bucky’s slightly concerned expression, you pushed that fear away. You were being paranoid. He said there was no one around so that had to be true. You were only worried because this was an unfamiliar place. That was all.

"A few hours tops.”

"And you’ll come back.“

Bucky’s forehead creased a little as he tried to work out whether that had been a question or an order. He pushed the thought aside since it hardly mattered. "Of course I will, doll. Here, take this,” he said, handing you the crappy elastic band from around his wrist. “It’s my favourite hair band. I’ll always come back for this.”

He winked at you on his way out and you rolled your eyes at the ridiculous - but surprisingly touching - gesture. You knew it was only a joke but that didn’t stop it from meaning more to you. It may have only been an elastic band but in all the weeks that you’d been at the Compound, Bucky had never removed it from his wrist (except to tie his hair up into one of those slightly ridiculous man buns that he seemed to like). It was important to him, at least as much as an elastic band could be, and holding on to it made you feel trusted. That was a rare feeling indeed.

Slipping it on to your wrist, you conjured a few more daggers and flung them towards the target. Each hit their intended spot and what could potentially be described as a (very) small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. There was nothing more satisfying than successfully hitting your mark.

You walked down the range to collect the blades from the target, that feeling of being watched returning and growing stronger. You kept moving towards the target but were anxiously scanning the room for any sign of someone else being there. Bucky had said no one else would be around - he’d promised - but you couldn’t shake the paranoia.

Resting your palm on the board, you gripped the handle of the outermost blade and tugged it free. Immediately a wave of calm fell over you. It was ridiculous that holding a weapon in your hand relaxed you when you were able to conjure them from thin air anyway but the physicality of actually having it there was reassuring to say the least.

As you pulled another dagger from the target, the sound of creaking metal echoed through the range. You were still for a whole second before spinning around and flinging the blades in your hand towards the source of the noise. At the same time, an arrow brushed past your face, the feathers just catching your cheek.

"Who’s there?“ you asked, in your panic summoning a far smaller blade than you’d intended. It had been a long time since you’d conjured a weapon other than the kind that you’d been aiming for but you put it down to being caught off guard whilst not in your peak condition - physically or mentally. Mistakes happened occasionally, although normally not to you. "Identify yourself!”

"Hey, now. You can put that down,“ a man said. He clambered down from the ceiling using a pipe and then nothing more than the gaps between the bricks, landing remarkably well on the ground. He shouldered his bow and put his hands in the air, careful to move slowly and stay quite still until he was sure you weren’t going to try and stab him."Clint. That’s me. Clint Barton.”

You recognised the name, having spent the past few days doing nothing but reading over whatever files FRIDAY let you access (which unfortunately amounted to a very small proportion of those that were on the database, seeing how no one actually trusted you with information of high level importance). You’d learned all you could about those that lived in the Compound but that hadn’t prepared you for the reality of actually coming face to face with any of them.

He had obviously been briefed on you too, for he looked at you with a strange mixture of pity and understanding like he knew your story. If only he knew what you’d really been through; there’d be no way that he’d understand that. He’d probably turn and run, and you’d hardly blame him with everything that you’d done.

The soft, welcoming expression on his face, the kind that people normally used to calm scared children or entice dogs over from across the street, hardened a little and he asked, “What’s so funny?”

"Nothing. I just thought that, for once, my paranoia actually had some credence. I was being watched from the shadows after all.“

"Ask Natasha and she’ll tell you that we’re always being watched from the shadows.”

"What a reassuring thought.“ You fiddled with the blade in your hand, no longer stretching it out as a warning to come no closer, and said, "If there’s nothing else…”

Clint stood there staring at you for a long moment before suddenly exclaiming, “Oh, you want me to leave? Yeah, no. That’s not happening. I always shoot in here on a Monday afternoon. So really it’s you that’s intruding on me but I’ll forgive you and let you stay anyway. Since I’m a nice guy.”

Your forehead crumpled so tightly that it gave you a headache and you had to force yourself to relax. Sliding your blade into your belt, pulling the others free from the target, you kept your head low as you asked, “Are you suicidal or just insane?”

"Gonna have to be more specific than that.“

"You know I’m dangerous.” He nodded in acknowledgement, checking his bow and arrows over in preparation. You returned to the firing line but hovered against the wall furthest from him instead of taking a place by his side. “You know I’m dangerous - and probably unstable - and yet you decide it’s a good idea to spend time with me. In a shooting range. Where I’m highly armed.”

"I never said it was a good idea but I’m doing it anyway.“

"So it’s a death wish then.”

Clint shot an arrow and even though it hit the centre of the target he seemed annoyed that it hadn’t been absolutely perfect. As he pulled back the string to load another arrow, he looked over to you and asked, “Are you planning on killing me?”

"Not at the minute but that doesn’t mean I’m safe to be around,“ you answered honestly. Just because you had no intention of harming him didn’t mean he was out of danger. With the smallest thing able to set you off and kick in your instincts, there was absolutely every chance that you might lash out at Clint for no reason.

"No one in this Compound is safe to be around, Y/N. Just enjoy the company. I don’t talk much so we can both just practise in silence if that makes you more comfortable.”

It turned out that Clint did, in fact, talk a lot. Most of what he said was either absolute gibberish or related to things of which you had absolutely no knowledge and as such it went completely over your head. That was hardly an unusual feeling but with him you didn’t mind so much. There was something kind of relaxing about his inane babble drifting over you, a gentle wave of words of which there was no point in fighting.

You also quickly realised that when it came to shooting he was good. So good, in fact, that he began purposefully missing the centre of the target in an attempt to match your erratic throwing. Little did he know that there was indeed a pattern to your spacing of the blades and each dagger hit the exact spot that you’d aimed for but it was still a remarkably considerate thing for him to do.

Around an hour in to your share target practise session, Clint turned to you and said, “I was just gonna switch out my bow for something a little more boring. If you want, I’ve got a spare gun you can use.”

"Why?“

"House rules. Either everyone uses a gun or no one does so if you wanted to keep throwing your daggers you’ll have to come back later. Also, I’m just curious as to whether you’re as good with a gun as you are with those things.”

"I can’t be that good if I never hit the centre of the target.“

Clint chuckled at that, checking over the safety of his pistol before handing it over to you. "Come on, Y/N. We both know that if you’d actually been aiming for the centre you’d have hit it. Show me what you can really do.”

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead sliding a pair of heavy ear protectors onto your head. You immediately pulled back, caught off guard by the intrusion of your personal space - however harmless and friendly it may be. Clint threw his hands into the air in apology but did nothing else, turning to face the target and waiting for you to rejoin him by his side.

Readjusting the headphones on your head, taking a pair of protective goggles from the table at the back of the room, you tapped one of the ear muffs and said (or possibly yelled, you weren’t sure), “Where are yours?”

"Don’t need them. It can’t do much more harm seeing how I’m already pretty much deaf,“ he said, slipping on his own goggles. You questioned the legitimacy of that argument but pushed it aside. The corner of his mouth twitched as he guessed your next question almost before it had formed in your mind. "Hearing aids and lip reading. That’s how. Now, are we gonna shoot or what?”

He turned his hearing aids off and proceeded to empty an entire clip of rounds into the target at the furthest end of the range. All of his shots hit, scattered but clearly within the centremost ring. There was one that just clipped the edge and Clint claimed that must have been the first when he was still “getting his grove on”.

You shook your head and did as he had, shooting until there were no more bullets in the magazine. The pistol was not one you had used before but it handled better than most you’d initially trained with. Returning the safety, you took off your ear muffs and gave Clint a strained smile in response to his surprise. He accompanied you down the range to the target, mainly to confirm his suspicions.

Counting up the number of holes in your target, all situated in a perfect miniature circle within the centre ring, Clint could hardly contain his surprise. “That,” he said, still almost speechless from the shock, “was incredible.”

"Lots of practise,“ you mumbled. While being one of the best marksman - or markswoman - in the world should have felt an impressive achievement, you couldn’t find it within yourself to feel proud of your skills. Not when they’d been used to bring about only death and destruction. This was the first time you’d ever used them for a non lethal purpose, simply accepting a friendly challenge rather than practising with the ultimate goal to kill a man.

Handing the pistol back to him, you said, "Thank you for this afternoon. It’s been… Good.”

"Yeah, sure thing. You can keep me company next week too, if you want.“ Clint was hardly surprised when you mumbled a vague, noncommittal reply. He’d hardly been expecting you to become best friends in a few hours but he took it as a positive that you hadn’t out right refused.

Catching the way that your gaze lingered on his bow in the corner, he couldn’t help from grinning. "She’s a beauty, isn’t she? No other like her in the world. You can have a go if you want.”

"Hmm. Actually, I was thinking how pointless a weapon it is. You can carry, what? Twelve arrows with you and then when they’ve run out you’re unprotected. And aren’t arrows a little outdated as a weapon anyway?“

"Thirty-two,” he grumbled indignantly. Clint swapped his gun for his bow and ran his hand gently along the curved length, muttering something to it as if it were his lover. Remembering how The Soldier had always been very protective over his favourite gun, you couldn’t help but think that men had extremely strange relations with their weapons. “My quiver is custom made and holds thirty-two arrows.”

"And when they run out? Still seems like a bad choice of weapon to use against an army.“

"Shut up. Do you want a go or not?”

"Yes, of course I want a go,“ you said, practically snatching the bow from his hand. Archery was one of the few skills that HYDRA hadn’t taught you and that made you all the more eager to learn it. You’d turned out to be highly proficient at every kind of weapon that you picked up, so how hard could it be to handle a weapon people had been using for centuries?

The answer? Very, apparently.

It didn’t help that Clint’s bow had a draw weight five times that of a normal man. Even with your strength, which had been enhanced by HYDRA beyond anything your body should be capable of, you could barely pull the string back let alone try to make a shot. Eventually you just shook your head and said, "If you’re trying to prove a point, I’m not impressed.”

"Not even a little? Come on, you’ve gotta admit you weren’t expecting me to be that strong.“

"Maybe I’m slightly surprised. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

"Yep. That’s all I wanted to hear,“ he grinned, stealing back his bow. "Stick to your daggers, Y/N. You might still stand a chance then.”

***

"Hey, Tony. How’s… What are you watching?“ Bucky leant on the back of Tony’s chair, peering over his shoulder at the screens around him. It was a live feed to all the CCTV cameras in the Compound (of which there were literally hundreds). The screens were divided into nine smaller rectangles and every few seconds the image would change to show another empty part of the Compound.

One screen didn’t change, though. The image always remained the same, aimed at exactly the same part of the Compound. Bucky frowned and leant forward to get a closer look. "Is that Y/N?”

"It’s been almost a month and she still won’t see me.“

"So you spend your days watching her? That’s a bit creepy, Stark.”

"I’m basically her father.“

"That doesn’t make it much better. Spying on your daughter? Come on, Tony. You’ve gotta see that this is a bit weird.”

"What else am I supposed to do?“ Tony yelled, jumping out of his chair and shoving Bucky’s shoulder. It wasn’t a hard push but it caught the other man by surprise enough to send him stumbling a few steps backwards. "She’s alive, Bucky, but she’s not the same. She’s not my daughter and I can’t fix her if she doesn’t let me get near.”

The slight amusement that Bucky had felt towards Tony faded, replaced by a deep anger. “Y/N doesn’t need fixing! She’s fragile but not broken. The kid that you knew, Tony, she’s long gone. Nothing you do will change what HYDRA did.”

"How can you be alright with this? They made her into a weapon. They took a little girl and broke her, moulded her into something new and terrible.“ Tony leant back against his desk, gripping on to the wooden edge so hard that it nearly splintered. Bowing his head, his words merely a whisper, he said, "She’s a broken version of the girl I knew.”

"You can’t fix it. Trust me, I know.“ Bucky let out a sigh, his rage draining away at the sight of Tony’s heart breaking before his eyes. While he and the other man still weren’t on the best terms, Bucky couldn’t leave while Tony was in this kind of mood. Perching on the desk by Tony’s side, Bucky said, "All we can do for Y/N is help her adjust to her new life. You need to stop trying to turn her back into the child she was. Let go of the image that you have in your mind and replace it with the woman she is now.”

"That’s easier said than done.“

"I know but until you start to accept what’s happened there’s no way that Y/N will want to see you. If you look at her like she’s the child you remember, it’s only going to make her feel worse for not being that person. It’s going to take a long time for Y/N to be comfortable in her skin again, assuming that she ever gets there. You are a reminder of a life she can never go back to. That’s why she’s stayed away, Tony. That it. She’ll come to see you eventually. You just have to give her time.”

Tony let out a harsh laugh, trying to make best of a terrible situation. “Patience is hardly one of my stronger qualities.”

"I’ve noticed. Just try for Y/N’s sake. That’s all I’m asking.“

"I’ll try.” Tony’s body sagged in defeat, the reality of your situation hitting him fully. He’d tried to ignore the horrors that you must have been through, unable to face the guilt that he knew acknowledging the truth would bring, but now there was no escape. It was HYDRA’s fault, that much was obvious, but he felt like he held a large proportion of the blame. He should never have left you alone that night.

Bucky kicked the chair in Tony’s direction and nodded towards it. “Sit down, Stark. You look like you’re going to faint. Look, I’ll leave you to watch Y/N train.”

"She’s good,“ Tony said as Bucky hovered by the door to his office.

"Yeah, she is. She always was the best of us.”

"Barnes… Bucky… She’ll be okay, won’t she?“

"Honestly? I don’t know. I have no idea. I don’t think anyone could ever be okay after what she’s been through but I promise that I’m going to help her in whatever way I can. You have my word on that.”

"I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Let’s just hope that it’s enough.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fly out to China on Sunday/Monday so I don't know when I'll be able to get to a computer to update the next chapter. It's been written and everything but it's just a matter of finding the internet. I hope you will all stick with me whilst I'm sorting myself out and setting everything up for my new job over there :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is almost a week later than the usual schedule, but my wifi is terrible and I've only just gotten around to posting it. Hope you enjoy :)

Even though you’d been coming down to the lab every day for the past two weeks, you still couldn’t shake the unease you felt there. The weird machines, the constant whirring of computer processers. It never reminded you of HYDRA’s labs, per say, but there was always that little voice in the back of your mind that wouldn’t shut up about how deadly some of the Avengers’ technology could be in the wrong hands.

It also didn’t help that, on multiple occasions, during your trips to get your supplement injections Tony had been there too. He never sat too close, generally favouring the far corner of the workshop as it kept his work away from Bruce’s. However, each time you entered the lab he would immediately turn to greet you only to then slump his shoulders without a word and turn back. No one else appeared to have noticed his behaviour but you had caught on almost immediately.

He may have pretended to be focused on his work - fiddling with wires, tinkering with circuits or sometimes just randomly letting off shots - but whenever you came down to the lab he never got anything done. Tony never stared at you, never did anything to make you feel uncomfortable, but that was half the problem. In trying not to be a burden, he was actually making you feel even worse.

As you’d expected, when you and Bucky went down for your daily injection Tony was there with Bruce. However, instead of being tucked away in the corner, the two men where stood right in the centre of the lab excitedly discussing a new project of theirs. They barely noticed you enter, far too engrossed with their holographic simulation.

You looked up to Bucky questioningly but he just shrugged. “I’ve no idea, doll.”

Instead of interrupting their animated argument - although you were sure that they’d insist it was merely a heated discussion of the best way to proceed - you and Bucky each took a seat at the nearest workstation and waited.

"So how was shooting with Clint yesterday?“ Bucky asked. You were almost relieved that he asked. You knew he’d wanted to ever since you returned from the shooting range but had held himself back to give you a little bit of space. Unfortunately, that restrained interest had manifested as a constant tapping of his metal fingers on his leg or a sly grin every time he looked your way, both of which were exceptionally annoying.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "It was fine. We did moving target practise. Clint is good. The only time he missed was when I took some of his coffee. Apparently that’s enough to freak him out and make him anxious enough to miss his mark.”

"I probably should have warned you about that… Don’t take Clint’s coffee. He pretty much needs it as much as the air itself and it’s basically sacrilege to drink it. Also, he drinks it out the pot and you don’t wanna share that. Who knows where his mouth has been.“ You nodded in understanding, filing that piece of information away with the other bizarre observations you’d made about the archer. "I didn’t know you liked coffee.”

"Neither did I but I do, apparently.“

"That’s great news, doll,” Bucky said, truly pleased at the fact. He’d been trying to get you to eat “real” food for the past week as well as your energy packets in the hope that it would help wean you off. So far, it hadn’t been a successful endeavour. Even the most simple foods were enough to upset your digestive system and those that didn’t you hated the taste of. So, the fact that you’d actually found something you thought tasted good was a huge step forward in his book.

You shrugged off his enthusiasm, your own energy levels being too low to match it. That was the downside of these injections of Bruce’s; the few hours before your next doses were pretty awful. It was like going through a miniature withdrawal every time but thankfully they were lasting for shorter periods every day.

Trying to distract yourself from the numbness in your hand and the horrid dryness in your mouth, you asked Bucky, “Did you know Clint was going to buy me my own bow?”

"He mentioned it, yeah. Said something about you struggling to use his so he ordered you a ‘training bow’. Tell me you kicked his ass at archery. Please.“

"Not yet,” you said, your disappointment clear. To be fair, you’d only had one lesson and you had shown the natural aptitude you had when it came to using every other type of weapon that HYDRA had trained you on but that consolation did little to alleviate the sour feeling of losing to Clint. Tapping your fingers on the worktop you said, “It’ll take a few months to get that good.”

"You’ll get there, doll. Don’t panic.“ Bucky gently patted your knee and gave you a soft smile. He hid it well - it was mainly around his eyes that you could see it - but his smile grew when you didn’t flinch away at the contact. You trusted him to not hurt you; he’d always looked out for you even as The Soldier and you had faith that he would continue to do so until he died.

It was another ten minutes before Bruce and Tony actually realised that you were there. You hadn’t been quiet while you waited; they’d just been so engrossed in their work that they genuinely hadn’t noticed you. The moment they did, though, their entire demeanours changed. Where before they had both been relaxed and open and joking around, in an instant they became tense and stiff.

Bruce’s shift in posture was perfectly visible. His shoulders went up, he wrung his hands together and tugged nervously on his sleeves. Tony, on the other hand, hid it considerably better. The only signs that he was anxious about seeing you were the way he kept his hands locked behind his back and his gaze firmly on Bucky.

"Morning, Y/N,” Bruce said, masking his stiffness with a fake cheer. He wasn’t exactly scared to have you and Bucky around but he was always wary when you were, rightly so. You didn’t take it personally, though, as you had noticed that he drew into himself around everyone except Tony. Only when he was working alone in his lab was he truly relaxed.

"Good morning, Bruce.“

"We’re sorry to interrupt,” Bucky said, sending you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to argue that point. “Was this, uh, important?”

"It can wait,“ Tony said, waving his hand so the colourful holographic display vanished. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began tapping away in a manner that made you wonder if he was just faking. His fingers flew over the screen too quickly, the patterns too erratic to be anything meaningful. As always, though, it seemed to be only you that noticed his evasive behaviour but you kept your mouth shut as Tony wandered off back to his corner of the lab.

Bruce suddenly broke away from his conversation with Bucky and looked over at you, his brow complete furrowed in concern. "Y/N, are you alright?”

"I don’t think so,“ you said, lifting your hand up from the table to see just how badly your fingers were twitching. Your hairline was soaked with sweat that had seemingly appeared from nowhere and your stomach was lurching with every breath. "I really don’t feel good.”

"Right. I’ll go grab the new supplement from the storage cupboard. I’ll be back in a minute, okay? Just hold on until then. Bucky, get her some water and keep her calm.“

Bucky did as Bruce told him, handing you a huge glass of cold water. Just the thought of drinking it made you feel even more sick, though, and it took an enormous amount of coaxing by Bucky to get you to take a single sip. "That’s it, doll. Come on. One more sip.”

You took the glass in your hands, the cold condensation dripping down your arms, but before you could bring the glass to your lips your entire body lurched. The glass shattered on the floor, sending pieces flying in every direction and the water pooling around your stools.

"I’m sorry,“ you mumbled over and over, trying to bend down to start cleaning up the mess.

"Hey, don’t you worry about that,” Bucky said soothingly, off his stool in an instant and slipping his metal arm around your waist to keep you upright. He rested your head against his chest, stroking your hair and mumbling calm reassurances. It seemed to help for some of your tension eased and you went limp against his side.

Bucky knew it wouldn’t last for long. He’d seen before that these short period of calm were often followed by an even worse wave of symptoms if you didn’t get your supplements. For now, though, he just held you close and made certain that you were still hanging on in there.

"Stark,“ he hissed, trying to get Tony’s attention from across the room without worrying you. "Tony! Where is Bruce?”

"On his way back. Two minutes most,“ Tony answered a few seconds later. Peering around the machine on which he was working, trying to be subtle and nonchalant but failing dreadful, he properly looked at you for the first time since you’d arrived in the lab and felt a sharp stab in his chest. Despite the opposite clearly being true, he asked, "Is… Is she okay?”

Not bothering to lie to the man, too concerned with your health to worry about Tony’s, Bucky said, “No, she isn’t. Have you got a cloth or something to wipe up the spillage?”

Tony grabbed one of the shoddy pieces of fabric he used to wipe oil from his hands and machines, holding it out for Bucky. Although he tried, Tony couldn’t tear his heartbroken gaze away from you, almost frozen in place as the reality of his failure to protect you hit him hard.

Snatching the cloth from Tony’s hand, Bucky gently squeezed your arm before handing you over to your godfather. You groaned in protest of being moved but Bucky whispered into your hair, “It’s alright, Y/N.”

Tony’s eyes widened in shock and he frantically uttered all the reasons why this was a bad idea but they died out when you slumped against him, clinging to his shirt as you fought the sharp waves of pain that rippled through your body. His hand shaking almost as much as yours, Tony rubbed small circles on your back and repeated Bucky’s earlier assurances. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. Just keep breathing. Oh, Bruce, thank god you’re back. Help her.”

"I need you to sit up straight, Y/N,“ the doctor said, holding you still with Tony’s help. Bruce pushed up your sleeve and pierced your skin with the needle, as quickly and painlessly as he could manage. Your hand clenched at the pinching pain in your arm but relaxed almost instantly when the ice cold liquid began to run through your veins.

It took a few minutes but you eventually returned to yourself and became aware of exactly who you were huddled up against. You didn’t look up at Tony, instead just savouring the brief, completely unexpected moment of peace that came from being in his arms. It was so wonderfully familiar and for a single second you almost forgot the terrors of the past six years.

But peace, especially one as fragile as yours, never lasts.

A sharp wave of pain shot through your body, so completely overwhelming that you lost nearly all sense of yourself. You shoved Tony away and had summoned a huge sword the instant that the lights started to flicker. If you hadn’t been so on edge, you’d most certainly have taken a moment to appreciate the beauty of the weapon you’d conjured; the handle was exquisitely designed and the blade perfectly balanced.

A hand closed around your arm and though you fought against the grip it remained in place. You instinctively swung your sword in the direction of the man holding you still - Bucky - the edge of the blade bouncing off his metal arm. He winced as the impact, the metal plates whirling as they readjusted themselves.

Another pair of hands landed on your shoulders, trying to push you back onto your seat. "Calm down, Y/N,” Bruce said, pressing you down with a strength that was totally at odds with his stature. His voice was calm and steady but couldn’t pull you back from the edge on which you now teetered. “Everything is fine. It’s just a power fluctuation.”

You spun around to face him, twisting out of his grip and stumbling backwards in shock at the green veins that were popping out his forehead. At first you crashed into Bucky’s chest and he tried to stop you from running but his attempt to calm you down only made you feel more trapped than before. Searching desperately for the best space to defend yourself, you elbowed Bucky in the side with enough for to make him double over and release his grip then leapt over the worktop to get away.

The logical part of your brain knew that they weren’t going to hurt you but that higher function was being completely overruled by the base panic you were feeling. The flashing lights were far too close to the sparks caused by the terrible machine HYDRA used to alter or wipe your thoughts. In the dark moments, the softness of Bucky’s face became harsh and unyielding like The Soldier’s and it was all you could do to remember that you were free and not back at their grasp.

Clutching your sword to your chest, you closed your eyes and repeated over and over, “I will not comply. I’m free. I am not their weapon.”

However those self reassurances fell flat when you heard one of the men striding across the lab towards where you were standing. Your panic spiked almost impossibly high and your sword clattered against the tiled floor with a loud crash. Holding on was too painful and you knew that it would do you no good. Fighting only ever led to pain and you could take no more today.

You bowed your head and clenched your trembling hands behind your back, hoping to hide your weakness. You were far from strong but if they thought you were stable then they’d leave you be. If you complied and did whatever they wanted, they wouldn’t hurt you anymore. Eyes still clenched tightly shut, you waited for orders and hoped that by giving away your control would make everything better.

"Sweetie, come back to us.“

You shook your head. A careful touch against your cheek brushed away the lone tear that fell from your eyes, feather light and barely there. "You aren’t real. You are a figment of my imagination.”

"No, no, Y/N. I’m right here. Please, kiddo. Come on. Open your eyes.“

Doing as you were told, you stared blankly at the ground. Gentle fingers tilted your chin up to direct your gaze forward towards Tony. Instead of convincing you that he was there, though, you became even more certain that this was a trick.

His hair was messy and unstyled, his eyes bloodshot and empty of emotion. His clothes were ill fitting and hung strangely from his frame as if they were a size too big. It just wasn’t right. Tony had always been larger to life. There was no way that this dulled version in front of you was the man himself. 

This had to be a trick. A hallucination of some kind.

You had to be sure, although if it proved to be true that the man before you was nothing more than a vision from the depths of your mind you weren’t convinced that that would be any better. Grabbing the man’s forearm to steady yourself, you conjured a thin blade and plunged it into his side. He fell to his knees, collapsing on to you and pulling you down to the ground with him.

"Oh god,” you panicked as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. The lights were still flickering but you could see everything clearly now. Stroking Tony’s hair, you breathed, “Don’t be dead. I don’t know why I did that… I’m sorry. Please don’t be dead.”

"Hot red.“

"What?”

Tony pushed himself off of you and against the workbench. Maintaining eye contact with you, he held his hand in the air to stop Bruce from coming any closer. Very carefully, Tony tapped the handle of the dagger in his side. Wearing a smirk despite the fact he’d just been stabbed - or quite possibly because of it - he said, “Hot red handle. That’s pretty badass.”

"I’m sorry…“

"Don’t you worry, kiddo,” Tony said, wincing when Bruce helped him to his feet. The men wrapped their arms around the other’s shoulders and waist to keep them standing and began slowly making their way towards the door. “Just another Tuesday afternoon.”

You went to follow them to the medical wing but Bucky caught your arm before you reached the door. Ignoring your groan, he sat you down and waited silently for you to explain what had just happened. Bucky was perfectly aware that you didn’t want to talk about it but had absolutely no intention of letting you leave the lab until you had.

When you could take it no longer, you threw your head back and pointed at the flickering lights. “The chair.”

All that Bucky said was, “Oh.” He understood better than anyone else ever could as to just how terrible those memories were. It had taken him years to recall the details (not that he particularly wanted them to; they appeared more in his nightmares than to his waking mind) but what he did remember was crystal clear. There were no words to describe the terror he felt when picturing that chair.

"I’m sorry if I hurt you.“

"You’ll have to do more than elbow me to do any real harm.”

"I can stab you too if you want,“ you said, trying to joke but choking on the words. "Bucky…”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, rocking you gently as you wept into his chest. “It’s alright, doll. Tony will be okay.”

"And if he isn’t?“

"Listen to me, Y/N,” Bucky said, holding you by the shoulders and meeting your gaze straight on. He lifted a hand to your cheek, tracing his thumb along the line of your jaw. You closed your eyes and leant into his touch. The tender brushes pulled you from your despair, slowly bringing you out of the darkness of your sorrows. “Tony will be alright. He’s been through far worse and this was not your fault.”

It wasn’t easy to believe him. If Bucky expected you to believe that the knife had just stabbed Tony under its own volition then he was more delusional than you thought. Still, you knew he had a point. You hadn’t been in your right mind. Unfortunately that excuse - for that was all it was - did little to alleviate your guilt.

"So…“ Bucky said, dropping his hand. "Hot red handles? You wanna tell me what that’s about?”

"I don’t know. It rings a bell but I can’t…“ You rubbed your temples, working hard to ignore the familiar headache that came about whenever you tried (and failed) to access memories from before HYDRA. Bucky patted your knee and urged you to continue.

Not quite able to find the words, you conjured another little dagger and handed it to him. Bucky turned it over, examining the simple design on the enamel handle with a smile. He was always intrigued by your powers but you rarely ever allowed him - or anyone else - to get this close to your weapons. Balancing it on his index finger, he said, "I remember them being this colour. It’s the same as Tony’s suits, isn’t it? Always a spark of joy and hope in an otherwise miserable world.”

"It really is a miserable world, isn’t it.“

"Doesn’t have to be, doll. Come on, let’s get you out of here. Sam’s baking a coffee and walnut cake.”

"I’m not hungry.“

"Well, I am. Sam’s not good for much but his cake is the only reason we keep him around. For all his faults - and let me tell you there are many - he really can bake.”

It turned out that Bucky was right and Sam’s cake tasted amazing. You only managed a few mouthfuls with it being so rich and your digestive system really not able to cope with that level of fat but it was good. As it turned out, Sam was also a surprisingly good guy - not that you’d have known from all of Bucky’s complaining about him.

Sam watched you curiously from across the kitchen but was by far the most discrete of all the Avengers. He and Bucky chatted away and you were quite content to zone out of the conversation but every now and then Sam would find some way to pull you back. It was always with completely harmless questions but he seemed to be taking a lot more from your answers than their base value.

Much to your surprise, when Bucky excused himself for a minute and left you two alone in the kitchen, you weren’t overly uncomfortable around Sam. Humming to himself as he started cleaning away the dirty bowls, a pretty tune you didn’t know, you found yourself possessed by the urge to help tidy up.

Collecting the cake tins from the counter, you dumped them in the sink and started scrubbing away at them. The hot soapy water turned your hands bright red but you felt nothing more than the rough wire sponge rubbing against your skin as you fought against the grime.

"There’s a dishwasher, you know.“

"I can pretend I’m being helpful if I do it by hand.”

"Fair enough.“

"Does it help?” you asked. You didn’t have to turn around to feel his confusion so clarified, “Talking about… things. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Help people deal with, uh, trauma.”

You mustered the courage to face him and were met with a soft, slightly sad smile. You wondered who he’d lost. He took the wet plate from your hands and began drying it with a hand towel in desperate need of a wash itself. “Yeah, that’s what I try to do. It helps some people. Not always but it can. It is never easy, though. Did you wanna talk?”

"Not really.“

"That’s cool. If you change your mind, just gimme a shout.”

"I will. Thanks, Sam,“ you replied, shocked to realise that a part of you actually meant it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally gotten around to posting these next few chapters on here, enjoy 3 fun chapters in one day. I do stick to my posting schedule on tumblr (same username) if you want to read this weekly rather than whenever I remember to get on here :) Anyway, enjoy!  
> Usual warnings as always: PTSD, physical and mental abuse, minor character death

A few levels above you, an alarm began ringing. It was a nothing more than a distance cry by the time the sound reached you in the deepest parts of the compound but constantly it rang on. You couldn’t help it; you looked towards the door and held your breath in hope, waiting for a familiar face to burst through and save you from these horrors.

"He will not come for you,“ Volkov said. "The memory of the man that you cling on to, he does not exist. He never did. You created a fantasy to make yourself feel more loved because you are unloveable. No one will ever care for someone like you. He never did. You were a burden on the life of the great Tony Stark and he will never come for you because he is better without you. He never wanted to be a father and certainly not to someone like you.”

"You’re lying.“

"It’s the truth and you know it. You are clinging on to a dream that a knight in shiny armour will come and take you away from this world but this is where you belong. Your talents are put to the best use here. You think he’ll save you but it is with us, with HYDRA, that you will be no longer limited by their ridiculous morals. It is only when you cast aside their ideals that you can truly be free.”

Freedom. A terrible concept, one you wished you could give up on but that had an awful habit of rearing its head when you least wanted it to. It gave you hope in the face of the worst that these people had to offer and kept you fighting. You could never give in to them when freedom hovered in the distance as a very real option, if you could only escape. 

You’d gotten good at repressing those urges. Every time you’d tried to flee, they would catch you before you even made it to within eyeshot of the front gates. But today you had a good feeling - if there was such a thing in this place. Volkov may have brought up Tony solely for the purpose of hurting you but thinking of him made you stronger than he realised was possible.

Because, as much as it hurt, he was right. Tony would never be able to come to you. He had no idea where you were being held and even with his suit you doubted that he’d ever get through the defences of the compound. So no, he wouldn’t come for you. But you were damned if you wouldn’t break out and go to him.

And today? Today was the day you would escape. You would finally be free.

You bided your time until Volkov turned his back on you. Wasting no time, you leapt forward and smashed his head against the concrete wall. You ran towards the door but realised a moment too late that it was locked.

Volkov turned towards you and scowled, angry but not surprised at your behaviour. He brought his palm to his forehead, pressing down to try and slow the bleeding. It did little good and his eyes began to cross, concussion taking hold. Your handler was swaying on his feet, mumbling something under his breath that he didn’t understand. Wobbling as he stepped forward, he missed his footing and fell to his knees in front of you.

Crouching down, you pulled his security card from inside his pocket. Now in possession of the thing you needed most to escape, you had no further use for the handler. In a better world, you would have left him there to be found and taken to the medical centre to be treated. Unfortunately for Volkov, he’d spent so long convincing you that taking the “proper course” in situations like this wasn’t murder and instead a blessing for those involved. Without a single drop of guilt, you snapped his neck.

You rose to your feet and didn’t spare him even a single glance as you left the room. Slipping through the open door, you rounded the corner and came face to face with Handler Petrov - on his way to your session to check on your progress. He towered above you, blocking the way with his enormous stature. As seemed to be his go to move, Petrov grabbed your throat and threw you aside, your skull cracking as you hit the concrete wall with a deafening crash.

A harsh ringing in your ears, you pushed yourself up against the wall and fought to stop the world from spinning. You saw Petrov’s mouth moving as he screamed at you but couldn’t hear his yells over the deafening pounding in the back of your skull.

He lifted you by the collar and slammed you against the wall. Normally, you would have been unable to fight back. Petrov was too big, too strong, but you were being driven by a force so intense that your past experiences did little to warn you against fighting him. You slammed your hands down against the crook of his elbow, just as the brunette Soldier had taught you. Already prepared for him to drop you, you landed almost gracefully on your feet when Petrov leapt back and gripped his arm in pain.

You wasted no time hanging around for Petrov to regain his senses and come after you. Racing down the hallway, you tapped the ID card that you’d stolen from Volkov on the reader to open the door to the upper levels of the compound. You practically flew up the stairs, moving with such haste that you tripped on multiple occasions but didn’t care. You’d cracked your kneecaps so many times during training with the Soldiers that a few more dents would hardly notice.

Thankfully, you only crossed paths with one other HYDRA scientist. He had to have been no older than mid twenties but you didn’t think about that. He was a threat, an obstacle that needed passing. Nothing more.

Knocking his feet from beneath him, you stamped down on his tibia, eliciting a high pitched scream. His anguish echoed down the hallway but you barely heard. Even without the ringing in your ears, your heart was thumping so hard that its beat bounced around inside your skull, blocking out the little sound that you actually registered.

"Soldier, stop!“ he yelled, desperately hoping that you would obey the instruction. The hopeful light in his eye faded when he recognised that you would not and he tried to scramble away before you could do him any real damage. However he made it no further than a few metres before you kicked him in the stomach causing him to curl up and begin rocking on the floor, practically weeping.

You bent down and pulled the gun from his belt. The little man stretched out his arm to try and snatch it back but you simply stepped away out of his reach. Ignoring his groans, you released the magazine and sighed. It was far from full but you were fairly certain that it would be enough to cover your escape. Clicking it back into place you began towards the exit, stumbling when the fallen scientist grabbed you by the ankle. You twisted as you fell, letting a round loose into his chest and killing his instantly.

"I’m sorry,” you whispered, pushing yourself back upright and carrying on without looking back. You couldn’t bear to focus on the way that his blood pooled around him or to see your reflection staring back at you with its murderous eyes. Because, whether you cared to admit it or not, taking his life had made you feel powerful and in control. You couldn’t ignore the rush that came from killing one of their pawns.

The entire compound went on to lock down less than a minute later but you’d already made it out a side door that you knew for a fact didn’t exist on the blueprints. It led out into a forest which seemed to go on forever. You didn’t have time to think about it too much, though. Dropping the ID badge on the ground, paranoid (with good reason) that it might contain a tracking chip, you held tightly to your stolen gun and steeled yourself for the long and arduous escape ahead.

Outside of the compound, you’d thought that you would feel free but surrounded by the never ending forest you felt more trapped than ever. The clear fresh air, so different from the heavy ever-metallic atmosphere down below, felt uncomfortably sterile. Bugs crawled around in the dark of the night and hunters swooped past you, the constant bustle of noises setting you more on edge than ever.

In the moonlight, every tiny shadow seemed to be exaggerated tenfold. The mice running through the undergrowth looked like gigantic monsters. Little innocent birds were like eagles coming in for the kill. The hooting of the owls echoed around the forest, a war cry warning you to get away before it was too late. The sound of footsteps closing in behind you told you it already was.

Navigating your way through these woods would have been impossible enough during the day. There was only one clear path leading away from the compound and you were damned if you were going to be found anywhere near it. You’d rather take your chances and get lost in the mess of trees than risk being seen from the road.

It definitely didn’t help that the ground was so uneven that you managed to get no further than a few steps in any direction without tripping. You were generally able to grab on to a low hanging branch to stop yourself from falling, the harsh scratching of the dry bark better than a mouthful of dirt, but there was more than one occasion when you missed the branch.

Tumbling down a small bank, a particularly sharp rock slicing your cheek open as you bounced off its rough edge, you let out an almost defeated grown when your body finally came to a stop. You were coated in a layer of damp leaves, your face painted with mud and every inch of your skin scratched up beyond recognition. Laying there at the bottom of the ditch with the rain falling on your face, for a moment you truly considered just giving up and letting them find you.

That damned word resonated in your mind though, right down to the deepest, darkest corners of your conscience. Freedom. You were so close. You couldn’t give up yet.

With a renewed burst of strength, you pushed yourself up and limped away. The rain was getting heavier, hitting your face like tiny shards of glass. The lightning flashed brightly, followed by the most deafening crashes of thunder. This storm was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, the biting winds were covering your tracks far better than you could have hoped and the lightning offered brief moments of illumination to help you guide your way through the twisting and turning hunting path that you’d stumbled across.

On the other hand, though, with every flash of lightning, there was every chance that you would be seen by the nearing search party. The HYDRA agents were still far enough away to hold on to some semblance of hope that your escape would be successful but every few seconds you’d hear their shouts on the wind and your belief would falter.

Panicking, you scanned the area for the largest tree and began scuttling up the branches. The biting wind was circling around you now, your hair whipping against your face and getting into your eyes. The branches were barely stable, creaking and cracking all around you, but you scurried up to the top without slipping on the damp bark or losing your hold.

Huddled against the thick trunk, you wrapped your arms around your legs and made yourself as small as possible. From this height, you could see the HYDRA agents approaching with their torches and their guns. You realised then that you had dropped your own weapon, most likely when you’d fallen into the gulley. All you could do was curse your stupidity; it was too late to do anything else about it now.

It felt like you held your breath for hours waiting for the search party to pass beneath your tree and out of the area. You couldn’t believe your luck. You’d actually done it. Freedom was in your grasp.

Or maybe not.

As the lightning flashed once again, you caught sight of a shining silver and your ragged breathing caught in your throat. It didn’t matter how still and silent you tried to be. He still spotted you. The instant that your gazes met, you knew you were screwed. He had no intention of letting you escape. You were to be dragged back to the compound kicking and screaming to face what would undoubtedly be the worst punishment imaginable.

"I don’t want to go back,“ you whispered, knowing that he’d understand the message regardless of the storm raging around you both. Pulling your knees even tighter against your chest as he began to ascend the tree, you mumbled over and over, "I want my own life. I won’t go back.”

"There is no life outside of HYDRA,“ the Soldier said, making considerably easier work of the climb than you hand. The metal plates of his arm whirled as he pulled himself up on to your branch, continuing to readjust even when he had stopped climbing. The branch bent under his additional weight but was just thick enough to hold you both and not snap. "Not for us.”

"Please don’t take me back there.“

"Those are my orders.”

"You’re going to carry them out?“

"Yes.”

"I don’t want to fight anymore.“ You uncurled your legs from your chest and let them hang over the edge of the branch. Gripping on to the branch, you prepared to jump down but stopped when you felt the Soldier’s hand on your shoulder. "What? Do you need to chain me up first to make sure I don’t run?”

He shook his head, dropping his hand back into his lap and staring off into the distance. “We are not expected to return until the morning.”

You shot him a confused sideways glance and were sure that you saw the Soldier smirk. It was probably just a trick of the light though, shadows in the lightning making it just look like he was smirking. “Why not?”

"My instructions were to spend all night searching for you and then return you back to them. Therefore so long as you we are at the compound before sun rise, I have not disobeyed my orders. It does not matter when I found you so long as you are returned before the deadline.“

"I’m not sure that’s quite what they meant,” you pointed out, quietly impressed by the lateral interpretation he was implementing. Even if you’d wanted to debate his reasoning you wouldn’t; his plan meant you had a little more time before you went - were dragged - back and you were damned if you weren’t going to savour those final few hours of freedom.

The lightning flashed again and you convinced yourself that that smirk you’d seen hadn’t been imagined at all. His head held high, the Soldier repeated, “Those were my orders.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t share his good mood - if you could call it that. The storm wasn’t letting up at all and the chill of the wind was seeping down into your bones. You tried to warm your hands under your armpits but it did no good and they continued to tremble from the cold. With a sigh, you said, “They’re going to kill me for this, aren’t they?”

"Soldiers are too valuable to waste.“

"But…” you said, sensing his hesitation.

"You will be reconditioned.“

"Fourteenth time the charm,” you grumbled. You rubbed your temples as sharp, stabbing pains threatened to cripple you, the terrible memories of reconditioning resurfacing in the worst way. Burying your face in your hands, you felt the Soldier gingerly pat your back. It wasn’t much but that simple sign of (albeit awkward) empathy kept the spark of hope deep within your chest alive.

As the Soldier pulled away, his hand brushed against your skin and you felt a brief jolt as his thoughts and memories filled your mind. You were still getting used to these new powers, unlocked by all of HYDRA’s prodding and shocking your brain, and hated them with every fibre of your being. It was wrong to be able to violate someone’s privacy in this way and yet they still forced you to use these terrible powers.

No matter how hard you fought, your powers seemed to have an agenda of their own and you had no choice but to wait until the brief glimpses of the Soldier’s mind finally faded away. When they did, you were no longer merely shaking from the cold. Fear over what was to come paralysed you, making it almost impossible to breathe.

The Soldier knew what was to happen to you. You’d killed your handler, Volkov, and a junior researcher who had unfortunately been working on a very important project. Yes, they would wipe you but they intended to cause you an immense amount of pain before that as retribution for their deaths. It was going to hurt and hurt badly because the gentle Soldier at your side was the one who had been chosen to inflict the damage.

"You have no choice. You must follow their orders,“ you whispered, his guilt so strong that it seeped from his pores. You didn’t need to be touching him to feel that, not with how violently it was wrapping itself around you now. "I won’t remember anyway.”

"Their orders put your life in danger. If you are too weak, reconditioning may kill you.“

"I believe that’s the point, Soldier. They must think it’s worth the risk to play with my life after what I did. They’re probably right, anyway.”

"No risk is worth your life.“

You nodded but didn’t believe his words for a second. You were willing to take whatever risks presented themselves if it meant escaping this fate. Straightening yourself up, wiping your overgrown hair out your face, you said, "Don’t hold back. When they make you… You know… Don’t put yourself in danger. Not for me.”

"You must stop fighting them.“

"I can’t do that. I can’t stop fighting.”

"Be smart, then,“ he told you. His voice had taken on a completely new tone. It was looser, freer than you were used to. Maybe it was something to do with the storm. It gave him a cover, a darkness to hide behind. To allow his true self to rear its head, the self that HYDRA tried so hard to destroy.

Bucky.

Looking down at you, his soaked hair clinging to his face, he said, "Play the game. Follow their orders. Do as you are instructed and earn their trust. At times, I am allowed an element of discretion on my orders. When you have that, you can make choices in the moments it matters most. Hold on to those choices and keep yourself sane in the knowledge you are not their property. Hide away beneath the Soldier. Make it your shield and keep your heart safe.”

"Does it make it easier?“

"No,” he said matter-of-factly. “But it gives me clarity in moments like this. Know that I will keep you safe, Y/N. Always. That is my choice. I will protect you whenever I can.”

He hadn’t lied. The Soldier had no choice other than to fight you, to beat you into submission, but it was all a show. Each blow was hard enough to bruise down to the bone but they were placed with an utmost precision. The Soldier purposefully avoided inflicting damage on your internal organs. There were never more than two or three attacks to any one place on your body, ensuring that no permanent injuries were caused.

By the time you were being strapped into the chair for reconditioning, you were black and blue all over. Your body was weak but your mind was strong. You didn’t fight them when they pulled the final strap over your wrist. Instead, you just closed your eyes and thought of all the things to live for.

Your screams bounced around the reconditioning chamber but the words in your mind were so much stronger. You clung to them as everything else went black until there was nothing else but hope. Choice. Freedom.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh my god. You’re her, aren’t you? Mr Stark’s daughter.“

You looked between Bucky and the boy in front of you, not entirely sure whether or not he was a threat or not. There was something about him that made you wary however you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. He didn’t seem quite dangerous enough to warrant summoning a dagger as a precautionary protection. You couldn’t shake the (as of yet unproven) notion that he was stronger than half the people at the Compound, though.

By your side, you were curious to see Bucky subconsciously turn his body towards the child. That was the first time you’d seen him do that; to willingly show his metal arm to another person was incredibly strange indeed. Pairing that bizarre behaviour with the fact that the boy hadn’t made any kind of threatening gesture towards you - in fact, he’d done little more than smile at you and try to hide his excited stammer when talking - you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Glancing to Bucky in amusement when the boy stretched his arm out, introducing himself as Peter, you shook his hand. His grip was considerably stronger than you’d been expecting, almost enough to crack your fingers. More impressed than you were willing to let on, you said, "I’d rather Y/N to ‘Mr Stark’s daughter’, if it’s all the same. That’s some grip you’ve got.”

"Yeah, I got bitten by a spider and got superpowers.“

"You’re joking, right?”

"Nope. I got super strength and speed. I was already pretty smart and figured out how to make this special kind of web fluid that I can use to swing around and Mr Stark is teaching me how to be hero. I’ve got this really cool suit too. It’s super intuitive.“

"It’s a strange world, Y/N,” Bucky said, patting you comfortingly on the back when he caught sight of your baffled expression. “Kids these days are weird.”

Peter continued to spout a fountain of words at you, clearly so excited to be a part of this world. You almost felt sorry for him. He wouldn’t stay this naive for long. The moment that he saw how awful the universe really was, you knew it would break him.

Holding up a hand in the hope of getting Peter to take a breath and stop talking, you asked, “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, focused on school or something? Romance? Just being a kid?”

"I’m doing great at school, actually,“ he said proudly. You half feared that he would whip out a report card from his backpack just to prove his point. "Anyway, I can’t just sit around and do nothing when I’ve got the power to help.”

"But…“

"Best not to question the spiderling, Y/N,” Bucky interrupted, already guessing where you were going. He shook his head almost imperceptivity, warning you to just drop it. The kid didn’t need to think about the dangers of this life. He had enough to worry about without you adding an existential crisis into the mix as well. “He’s got it all sorted.”

"Mr Barnes, I asked you not to call me that,“ Peter whined, although he was practically beaming at Bucky’s compliment. Judging by how soft Bucky’s expression was in that moment, you couldn’t help but think that the soldier had meant truly meant it; he genuinely thought that Peter was doing a great job.

The three of you stood in the hallway in silence for a long moment before Peter said, "I think… Uh, I should go. Homework and stuff. Plus I promised to see Ned tonight for an original trilogy marathon. He found a copy of the original DVDs in a garage sale and they aren’t remastered so he’s real excited.”

"Original trilogy of what?“

"Star Wars, obviously,” Peter said, tilting his head to the side as if you were totally crazy for not understanding. His surprise shifted to something like shock when he realised that you genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. “You have seen them, right?”

"I don’t think so,“ you said vaguely. Peter looked aghast and began to explain why you absolutely had to join them for the marathon tonight while Bucky simply found your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He understood. He’d been through exactly the same thing.

Even if you had seen them before you’d been taken - which you figured you must have done, if they were as important as Peter seemed to believe - those memories had been long wiped. You could assemble a rifle in seconds but when it came to tv, film or music you drew a complete blank. It was beyond frustrating and the harder you tried to get the knowledge back the more difficult it became to locate it.

Sensing your internal struggle, Bucky squeezed your hand a little tighter and tugged you towards his side. He knocked his elbow against yours and said to Peter, "I’ve never seen them before either so if the invitation is open to us both…”

"Oh, of course!“ Peter squealed. "You’re always welcome, Mr Barnes! It might be a bit squashed with all of us on Aunt May’s sofa, though…”

"Get your friend to come here and we’ll watch it in one of the cinema rooms. I’m sure Tony won’t mind. We can watch get popcorn, turn the surround sound up to max and it’ll be just like going to see it for real.“

"This is gonna be so cool!” he said, pulling out his phone to message Ned about the change of plans. You honestly thought that Peter would faint in excitement. After saying goodbye, he genuinely back flipped his way down the hallway to the lab to meet with Tony, smiling so hard that his face hurt.

When you were sure that he was gone, you turned to Bucky and asked, “Is he always so…?”

You waved your arms in the air, not really sure what adjective you were searching for. You weren’t sure that there were any words in any language to describe the kid you’d just met.

Bucky laughed at your attempts and nodded. “Yep. Peter doesn’t spend much time here at the Compound - maybe only one weekend a month - so when he visits he’s like a child at Christmas.”

"You like him.“

"Sure, I do. He’s a good kid.”

"And…“ you pushed, wondering just how hard you’d have to press him to get the answer you were really looking for.

Perfectly aware of what you wanted to talk about, Bucky let out a sigh and said, "The first time I met him, he told me my arm was cool. It was a little after Steve found me and brought me here. I spent most of my time alone in my room and only came out when I needed something. One day I was in the lab with Tony - he used to help recalibrate my arm when it slipped out of phase before I got a new one - and in walked that scrawny kid. Instead of being scared or shocked, he just said it was cool.”

"That must have been nice.“

"Doll, he just invited you to a movie night. The spiderling isn’t scared of you either. Come on, let’s go order some food for tonight. What do you fancy? Popcorn or ice cream?”

***

"Does anyone want the rest of pizza?“ you asked, setting the box on the table. You’d told Bucky that you wouldn’t be able to eat more than two slices but for some reason he’d insisted on ordering you an entire one for yourself nonetheless. As you’d predicted, you had begun to struggle after the first slice but had pushed on through to the second and currently weren’t feeling too sick which you thought was quite the success, really.

Ignoring the way that Bucky eagerly eyed your pizza, practically bouncing on the edge of the sofa waiting for permission to pounce, you made a point of asking the boys first. "Peter? Ned?”

Peter shook his head, having already moved on to a huge tub of ice cream. That boy could really eat; he’d had a large pizza all to himself, a side of chicken strips and had eaten a bowl of popcorn before that. Truly, it was a wonder to see him inhale his entire weight’s worth of food and still barely feel full up.

When you looked to Ned, you were met with silence. He was still in a mood that you hadn’t been completely blown away by the “greatest cinematic twist in history” (unimpressed by your reasoning that Vader literally meant father in German) and had resolved not to speak to you until you admitted your ignorance on the matter. You weren’t convinced that Ned could hold a grudge at all, a theory Peter willingly attested to, so weren’t too worried about being ignored by the teen.

As the title music began blaring, you glanced over at Bucky and murmured, “You’re supposed to be watching the film, not me. If you want the pizza just take it.”

"It’s not that,“ he said, although he did reach over and eagerly grab the box from the table.

"What, then?”

"Doesn’t matter.“

"Guys, be quiet!” Ned hissed, shuffling on his beanbag to scowl at you. “You’re gonna miss the best bit if you don’t stop talking.”

"You just wanna stare at Leia,“ Peter pointed out.

Ned swirled around to face him, shoving his shoulder. The shove barely budged Peter at all and you couldn’t help but smile when he retaliated and accidentally sent Ned flying. Peter scrambled off his own beanbag and dragged his friend up, apologising profusely for forgetting his own strength.

Waving his concerns away in a way that made you wonder just how often Peter forgot to check his strength, Ned said, "Whatever. Let’s be honest, dude. All anyone wants to stare at is Leia in chains. I bet even Y/N agrees that she looks great like that.”

Both Peter and Bucky suddenly looked incredibly worried and Ned couldn’t work out what he’d said to cause such a reaction.

More uncomfortable at being stared at by all three than his comment itself, you curled your legs up a little tighter against your chest and tried to keep a nonchalant air. It wasn’t easy when you were the centre of attention like this. “I just don’t think kidnapping and holding people against their will is sexy.”

"Oh. Well, I guess when you put it like that…“ Ned mumbled. He was silent for a few seconds before pointing out, "She does kill Jabba using the very chains he held her with, though. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

"Yeah, Ned. That’s pretty cool,“ you said with a fake cheer. It seemed to satisfy the boys and they both finally settled down as the movie continued to play, although you soon found your mind drifting away from the story.

Just as you considered giving up and calling it a night, Bucky kicked you from the other side of the sofa. It wasn’t hard enough to cause you any real pain but you still gasped in surprise. He shifted in his seat away from the arm rest and into the centre nearer you until your shoulders were touching. Quietly enough not to disturb the boys, he whispered, "Just checking your still with us.”

"They’re flying around and letting teddy bears fight an army. It doesn’t require that much of my attention.“

"You’ve got to stay and watch the final showdown with the Emperor, doll.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, “I thought you said you hadn’t seen these films before?”

"I might have seen them a few times.“ Under your intense glare, helped immensely by the Imperial Death March playing in the background, Bucky admitted, "Okay, I think they’re great. Even the crappy prequels. So what? Just shut up.”

"I didn’t say anything. I just never would have thought you’d be a sci-fi fan.“

"I was real into it all before the War. It was an escape, you know? Still is, I guess. It’s hope for a better world. Yes, the robots and guns are cool too,” he admitted, elbowing your side when he caught your smirk.

You elbowed him back just as hard but then rested your head against his arm, surprised when his immediate reaction was not to push you away but instead pull you closer. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you relaxed in his embrace, shuffling until it was comfy for you both.

Bucky rested his chin on the top of your head, growing pensive. “I can’t remember but Steve says we went to a science expo and I was more interested in the tech than the girls we were with. Said even though I ignored them, I still managed to get them to go dancing anyway.”

"You’re into girls?“ you gasped, regretting the outburst when Ned whipped his head around to scold you for interrupting the film again. Muttering an apology, you turned to Bucky and whispered, "I’m sorry. That was out of line. I just thought… I assumed that you and Steve… Or even Sam…”

"Sam? Doll, no force on Earth could make me want Sam like that.“

"But if it were Steve…?”

Rolling his eyes so hard that you feared he might strain something, Bucky grumbled, “Shut up and watch the movie, Y/N.”

When the credits finally rolled, Peter and Ned instantly began a very intense discussion about the pros and cons of the original films versus the remastered editions but it went completely over your head. You couldn’t help but laugh when Bucky managed to inject his own opinion into their conversation and the boys were just as surprised to learn about his interest in sci-fi as you’d been.

You eventually managed to tear him away from the discussion, about half an hour later. The prospect of letting you wander around the Compound at night bothered him more than missing out on the end of the conversation so you bid your farewells and made a quiet exit (after being convinced to join them again next week for a marathon of something called Sharknado, which honestly had you quite intrigued as to whether they’d be as terrible as they sounded).

You and Bucky didn’t speak as you wandered through the dark hallways, both of you comfortable in the silence that so often surrounded you. It was nice to be around someone who valued the peace as much as you, a quality you’d found a lot of the other Avengers lacked. They always wanted to talk to you. They thought that in silence you might slip back into yourself and get lost in your memories but the opposite was true.

All too often you were bothered by fragments of memories that forced themselves upon you. Though you tried your best to ignore it, HYDRA’s voice was still there in the back of your mind, whispering terrible things to you every day. It reminded you of all the people you’d killed in their name. Told you over and over that no one would ever forgive you and that they were the only people who’d understand.

The more time you spent around the team the quieter the voices seemed to be and, in rare moments, they sometimes even vanished altogether. It was those periods that you savoured the silence the most and having company so desperate to end that peace did get on your nerves more than you often let on.

"I want to go to the roof,“ you said, pausing at the door you thought led up and out of the Compound. Somewhat annoyingly, although possibly for the best, since your arrival you’d only ever been taking outside via the main entrance and had never been given the access codes to any of the other exits. You could only guess this specific door led up because you’d never been through it.

Even shrouded by the shadows, Bucky’s indecision was clear. All you could think was that he’d been asked by Tony not to let you on to the roof in case you did something stupid (a reasonable fear given everything you’d been through, you supposed) but that was the last thing on your mind in that moment.

Almost pleadingly, fully aware that you sounded more like a petulant child than anything else, you said, "Come on, Bucky. Please. I just want to see the stars.”

"Doll, I really don’t…“ he began. He blinked a few times, unsure whether he’d heard you correctly or not. Scrutinising your face for any sign of ulterior motive, he said, "Just for stargazing, right?”

"Yes. I downloaded a book about stargazing last week and want to put it to practise.“

"Oh. Okay. Yeah. That’s alright, then. Let me grab a few cushions and blankets.”

Five minutes later you stretched out on the centre of the roof, surrounded by a pile of fluffy pillows which Bucky had stolen from a supply cupboard somewhere in the depths of the Compound. Staring up at the sky, you were amazed by just how clear it was. Even where HYDRA had kept you the nights weren’t this clear - although if they had been you wouldn’t have noticed, being a little too distracted to waste time stargazing.

Shuffling up to Bucky’s side for warmth against the cold night, pulling the blanket tightly around your shoulders, you pointed to the collection of stars which made up Cygnus, including Deneb - one of the brightest stars in the whole sky. “See that? It’s supposed to be a swan. No one is sure which myth it refers to but there’s a few. One about Zeus being horny. Another about a musician turning into a swan after he was murdered. But I like the story of it being a tribute to Phaethon.

"He lost control of Helios’ chariot and Zeus had to destroy it. His brother collected his bones from the ruins and gave him a proper burial and the gods were so touched that they immortalised Phaethon in the stars.”

"Why is that your favourite of them?“

"It’s sad.”

Bucky frowned at that but made no attempt to question you about it. Instead, he asked, “What made you wanna learn about the stars, doll?”

"They’re interesting,“ you shrugged. Ignoring how Bucky’s gaze was on you instead of the sky, you skimmed the vast blackness for another point of interest. "People have looked up to the stars for millennia for guidance.”

"So you’re hoping that they’ll show you the way? Any luck?“

You were surprised that Bucky hadn’t completely dismissed your reasoning as you’d feared he would but at the same time should have known better. Bucky was behind anything that helped you to pull yourself away from the trauma of the past and if that meant memorising the names, positions and mythology to every constellation in the sky he would help you in whatever way he could.

Pointing out Leo, you said, "They haven’t shown me anything yet. Doesn’t matter either way, since I wasn’t expecting to get some kind of revelation from them. I really do just think they’re interesting.”

"Well, there’s plenty of time. They aren’t going anywhere.“


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roles are reversed as the reader comforts Bucky during a panic attack and there's a super cute dinner with Tony and Pepper too.

"Wake up,“ you whispered, panic bubbling up in your chest. "Please wake up.”

You had no idea what to do. Bucky was tossing and turning in the bed, sweating through his sheets and mumbling desperate pleas for the pain to stop. It was so familiar, so reminiscent of what you’d seen back when you’d been with HYDRA. Since being at the Compound, you’d known Bucky to have nightmares but he usually woke himself up before they got too bad.

Not tonight.

He was practically screaming now. The agonising sound pierced your skull, paralysing you with fear. You knew that it was in his mind but a deep part of your brain - the part that still whispered from time to time that all of this was a dream and one day soon you’d wake up back in their grasp - kept trying to convince you that the danger was real. It was so hard to ignore.

Pushing yourself up off the floor with shaking hands, you pulled your thin blanket tightly around your shoulders and took a step towards the bed. You breathed his name, hoping that that would be enough to bring him out of his terror. Of course, it was not.

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you said, taking another slow step forward. You kept mumbling soft reassurances until your knees touched the frame of the bed. You could feel the metal frame shaking every time Bucky thrashed out, his behaviour becoming more erratic by the second. Unable to watch any longer, you stretched out your hand and touched his shoulder.

That did little so you crawled onto the edge of the mattress, bringing you close enough to shake him while still maintaining a safe distance. “Bucky, come on,” you said, this time with a little more urgency. “Wake up! It’s not real.”

You were fully prepared for him to lunge your way when he snapped out of his nightmare. Braced against the hard metal frame, you held him down to stop him from hurting either you or himself. You were just strong enough to keep him still and you didn’t move back until the slightly crazed expression on his face was replaced by one of guilt and regret.

"It’s okay,“ you whispered, clambering further on to the bed and pulling him into a slightly awkward embrace. A few seconds later, just as you were about to lean back and apologise for invading his personal space without permission, Bucky slipped his arms around you and held on to you for dear life. Burying your face in his shoulder, an action he mirrored back, you said again, "It’s alright. You aren’t alone. I’m right here.”

Your calming words seemed to have a positive effect: his heavy panting slowly levelled out to long, deep breaths and his hold on you became less of a death grip and more of just a tight embrace. You could feel his tears dripping on your shoulder, soaking the thin fabric of your nightshirt and sending a slight chill through your body. Seeing Bucky this way, so broken, just wasn’t right. It made everything feel wrong.

Running your fingers through his hair, relieved that your gentle touch seemed to be helping, you whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, Bucky. Always.”

He mumbled something indecipherable in response, finally leaning away from your embrace. His head hung low, his long, dark hair covering every inch of his face so you couldn’t see the true extent of his pain but had a pretty clear idea of what he had to be feeling. In a way, you were glad that you didn’t have to see his broken expression for it would have almost certainly be enough to break you.

You leant forward so your foreheads bumped lightly against each other. Finding his hand in the darkness, you gave it a gentle squeeze and repeated again that everything would be alright. Whether you believed it to be true or not didn’t matter; it was what Bucky needed to hear.

Just as your eyes were beginning to drift shut, your exhaustion overpowering your worry for your friend, Bucky whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Those shaking words slammed into you like a tonne of bricks and you responded immediately, “Don’t say that. You have nothing to apologise for. Absolutely nothing.”

"I’m sorry,“ he said again, trying so hard to be strong but failing completely. "I can’t…”

"Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to do anything, okay?“ You slowly helped him to lay down, kicking his thick quilt from the bed and instead using your thin blanket as a cover. He instinctively gripped the edge, drawing it up to his nose and breathing in the smell. You didn’t quite understand why but if your familiar scent helped ground him here then you weren’t going to stop him.

Whatever he’d been dreaming about had to have been terrible beyond belief to cause Bucky to act this way. You were incredibly curious what it took to break him so bad but had enough sense not to reach into his mind and find out. If it was capable of breaking someone as seemingly level as Bucky, there was no way of knowing what it would do to someone fragile like you.

Brushing the damp strands of hair from his face, you said softly, "Relax. It’s going to get better. Close your eyes. Oh, come on, Buck. You make me do this every time. Don’t be hypocritical and refuse to do it yourself.”

Your unimpressed tone was almost enough to make him smile, the kind of short, quivering smile which was always followed by crying of some kind. Desperate not to see him weep anymore, you linked your fingers together between your bodies and rubbed random patterns over his skin with your thumb. “You want to do this or not?”

"Right, then,“ you said when he nodded. You waited until you could see he had closed his eyes before you began, half believing that he would complain like you always did. But he didn’t.

He just waited silently for you to start, trusting you completely to help him in his moment of need. Slowing your breaths to match his still slightly erratic breathing, you exhaled and closed your eyes as well, ready to proceed. "Five.”

"Fingers on my hand.“

"How come you can use that and I have to come up with something else?” you grumbled. You were sensing a real double standard here but decided just to push your complaints aside if, by some miracle, this exercise actually did help Bucky bring himself back. Still, you couldn’t resist digging a fingernail into his palm just to emphasise your annoyance. “Be a little more inventive, please. Four.”

"In the morning.“

"It’s only three fifty. Try again.”

He let out a deep sigh, sounding so much more like the Bucky you knew. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was shaking his head beside you. “Four horsemen of the apocalypse.”

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you laughed at that remark. In the darkness, the heavy weight of his panic attack still hanging over you, it just seemed so apt. “Fair enough. I probably deserved that. Three. And if you say ‘in the morning’, I’m leaving.”

“Years. Three years since I broke free.“

"Two?”

"Annoying friends,“ he said, the affection he held for Sam and Steve lacing the words and making them all the softer. In fact, Bucky’s entire body softened at the thought of them, his muscles relaxing and the metal plates in his arm clicking free of the harsh lock in which they’d become caught.

"Good. And finally: One.”

"Y/N.“

You opened your eyes and rolled over on to your side to face him. "What?”

"There’s only one Y/N and she doesn’t know it - or, if she does, then she doesn’t believe it - but she’s amazing.“ Bucky rolled onto his side, tucking his metal arm beneath him, and met your gaze in the dark. "Thank you, doll.”

"I didn’t do anything. That was all you, Bucky. You okay now?“ He nodded so you pushed yourself up off the bed and swung your legs over the mattress. "Try and get some sleep, okay?”

You felt his warm hand around your wrist as you stood, pulling you back down beside him. Ignoring your protests, he tugged on your thin blanket so it (barely) covered you both. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Y/N. Just… It’s fine if you don’t want to but…”

"I’ll stay,“ you said, understanding what he was trying to say. It was always the same with you after a nightmare or episode. The last thing you wanted was to be alone. Even just sharing a bed or a sofa with another person - completely platonically, just the bumping of elbows or gentle movement of another’s breathing - was enough to keep you from slipping back towards the black abyss.

Snuggling up against his side, you rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. "It doesn’t ever get easier, does it? There is no escape.”

You weren’t really expecting an answer so were very surprised when Bucky said, “It gets easier to pretend. And the longer you pretend it’s okay, the easier it is to believe it.” He went silent for a while and you genuinely thought he’d drifted off until he added, “Then, out of the blue, something comes along that changes everything for the better. It fills in a few of the gaps and reminds you why you have to be strong.”

"Go to sleep, Bucky,“ you whispered, overwhelmed by his words. Your rubbed your sweaty palms on your pyjama bottoms, pinged the hairband around your wrist harshly against your skin, entirely convinced that you were not something capable of making him better. You weren’t a fixer. Everything you touched broke into a million pieces. You couldn’t be that person for him and if he expected you to be he would be severely disappointed.

You waited until you were sure he was asleep before slipping out the room to head for the roof. Alone, relishing the peace and clarity that being away from the expectations and beliefs of others - both positive and negative - you lay staring at the stars until the sun rose a few hours later.

***

"I thought I might find you up here. Barnes said you’ve been spending a lot of time up here recently. Vanishing in the middle of the night when you think he doesn’t know.”

"It helps me think. Or not think.“ You heard footsteps coming closer and clenched your fists tightly to resist the urge to summon a dagger. You knew you were in no danger but old habits died hard. "I’m allowed to be up here, aren’t I?”

"Of course,“ Tony said, walking right past where you lay to sit on the edge of the rooftop. 

"You’re allowed to go anywhere you want. Except maybe Natasha’s room. No one goes in there unless they have a death wish.”

"Noted. Why were you looking for me?“

If Tony was shaken by your outright questioning, he made no sign to show it. He just shrugged, his dark silhouette against the beautiful, red sunrise quite the remarkable sight. "I haven’t seen you for a few days. No-one has, really, except for Bruce when you go for your injections. I just wondered if you wanted to do something. But, you know, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Tony pushed himself to his feet, staring longing at the sunrise as if it held some of the answers he was searching so desperately for. It was a little heartbreaking, if you were being honest with yourself. He hid it well, so much better than Bucky or Clint or anyone else at the Compound, but it was still there in the air around him; self loathing, hatred for what the world had become, fear for what else might be taken.

You could feel it all. That terrible mixture of emotions probably clouding your judgement, you said slowly, “I was going to train today. You could… Actually, no. You’d get hurt.”

He spun around on his heels, a strange glint in his eye. With the deep red of the sky behind him, Tony looked like some kind of avenging angel. A fitting description, really. The corner of his lips twitching upwards, he said, “That sounds far too much like a challenge to me.”

"It wasn’t meant… I didn’t mean it like that.“

"I’m teasing you, sweetie,” Tony said, offering you a hand up. “I’m well aware you’d kick my ass. How about this: you train on your own and then come join me and Pepper for lunch.”

For some reason, you really wanted to agree to that offer. You hadn’t seen much of Pepper since you’d arrived at the Compound but every time you caught a glimpse of her red hair you felt a stab of familiarity in your gut. No matter how hard you tried, though, you couldn’t recall any of your memories about her. Everything you knew of her had come from FRIDAY’s records.

It was all you could do to smile around her and pretend that you had some idea who she was but she was far smarter than anyone gave her credit for and saw through your facade. Pepper always met your gaze with hope that today would the day that you remembered something, anything, about her and it hurt every time you had to ignore the emptiness in your chest and return her smile nonetheless.

Realising that you’d been silent for too long, you nodded to Tony and agreed to his offer. “I’m still not eating much, though,” you added, half hoping that it would be enough for him to retract the invitation. It wasn’t.

He walked you down to the gym, taking a far longer route than you would have done. You couldn’t quite tell whether that was because he wanted to spend more time with you or he’d forgotten where the gym was - Tony wasn’t really the kind of person that got involved with physical training, feeling a little inadequate against the super soldiers and assassins that made up the rest of the team. Either way, he seemed sad when you reached your destination.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tony rocked on his heels before finally saying, “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

"You can stay. If you want.“ You had no idea where the words came from but didn’t regret them when you saw how much Tony’s face lit up at the invitation. Still wanting to give him a chance to leave, you warned, "It’s not interesting. I’ll just be punching bags and practising my aim.”

True to your prediction, you spent the next few hours training so hard that, by the time Bucky came down to join you for his scheduled session with Sam, your clothes were dripping with sweat and your hands were red raw. He took one look at you and threw you a spare shirt from his bag, mumbling, “No way you’re going to lunch wearing that.”

Throwing on the oversized t-shirt, you smiled at Bucky on your way out. Tony led you up to a part of the Compound which you’d never seen before, a small little room that was more homely that the rest of the place put together. There were two large sofas, stylish yet comfortable, that sat in front of a modest TV and a fireplace. A small round table sat at the back of the room. Flowers and photos decorated the place, along with a whole range of cheap and tacky ornaments from the many destinations that Tony and Pepper had been to visit.

The entire scene was remarkably domestic compared to the minimalist design of the rest of the building and, honestly, you loved it. It was the kind of like you knew you could never have but having the chance to pretend for an hour or two seemed like it would be a great escape.

You realised about half way through the meal that that was exactly why Tony had had it built that way. He and Pepper lived busy lives and as hard as they tried to make time for one another they were unfortunately ships in the night. They rarely had overlapping time to relax so the few moments that they could snatch were spent here where they could pretend to have this kind of “normal” life.

"Did you see the sunrise this morning?“ Pepper asked, munching on the salad that Tony had left forgotten on his plate. "It was beautiful.”

"Yeah. It was. What were you doing up so early?“

"I don’t think I slept, honestly. Shut up, Tony. You can’t complain when you never sleep, either,” she said playfully, elbowing him in the side to stop him from saying anything else.

"Things are busy at the company at the minute. Lots of long meetings with unreasonable men but I’ll get there. And hey, I get to see beautiful sunrises from a helicopter as I go from one place to the next. Hardly a terrible thing.“

Pushing your lunch around on the plate, having managed to eat a few mouthfuls but nothing more, you said, "There are far worse things.”

"Indeed. Tell me,“ Pepper said, carefully pushing the conversation back towards lighter topics. "Did Tony show you your room yet?”

You flung your head up, convinced for a moment that you had misheard her. “What?”

"Pep, that was supposed to be a surprise,“ Tony moaned, slumping his head on Pepper’s shoulder. She placed a kiss on his forehead as an apology and stroked his hair, playing with the loose ends at the back with fondness. Tony practically melted into her, everything completely forgiven in an instant.

To you, he said, "I suppose I’ve got to show you now, don’t I? FRIDAY, tell Barnes to meet us on the second floor.”

"Sure thing, Boss.“

"Right, then,” Tony said, taking Pepper’s hand and walking her to the door. He gestured for you to follow when you showed no interest in moving. “Come on, Y/N. Can’t have a grand unveiling of your new room without you to see it.”

The grand unveiling was, in fact, just an unceremonious opening of the door and waving you inside to see everything. The walls were painted a warm cream colour and everywhere you looked there were little accents of colour to lighten up the space. There was a bookshelf, filled to the point of overflowing, full of books about mythology, star gazing and every other topic with which you’d shown any kind of transient interest in.

A small desk with a state of the art computer sat in the corner, far beyond anything that could be bought in a normal commercial shop. Tony had definitely made it from scratch for you, although he made no attempt to boast the fact. Beside the desk were tall sets of drawers, filled with a selection of clothes which had apparently been donated by the other women in the Compound based on what you’d stolen borrowed from them before. There were also a few new clothes of your own, mainly pyjamas, jogging bottoms and sweatshirts; the kind of thing Bucky had lent you and you had lived in since your arrival.

Then, of course, there was a gigantic bed in the centre of the room. Thankfully it was simple in design, just a plain wooden frame and a thick mattress which was both hard and comfortable at the same time. All in all, a beautiful room and finally a space to call your own.

"Thank you, Tony,“ you said, going in for a hug but changing your mind at the last minute. "This is very nice.”

"I’m glad you like it. If you need anything, you can ask FRIDAY. She works like normal in here and also has a few extra features which I’ll leave for you to figure out. Sorry it took so long to sort out.“

"It’s okay. I, uh…” Turning your back to Tony and Pepper, unable to ask the question looking directly at them, you said quietly, “What kind of security does it have? If something bad happened…”

"Panic buttons so you can deadlock the door. Can only be opened with a double code; one input from the outside, the other from you inside. The windows are reinforced and practically unbreakable. What else? Oh, space for a weapons locker under the floor if you need it and -“

"I think Y/N meant in case she does something.” Bucky interrupted, hovering at the door until you nodded to invite him inside. He looked upon the room with an approving gaze before slowly heading over to your side. “Right, doll?”

You nodded. While you had never responded quite the way Bucky did, you too still had HYDRA trigger words buried deep in your mind and many other stimuli that might cause you to do something unpredictable and incredibly dangerous. The last thing you wanted was to bring harm to anyone in the Compound and knowing that there was a place and a way to lock yourself away until such episodes passed would be incredibly comforting.

A sad understanding filling his face, Tony nodded. “Same protocols as in Bucky’s room. FRIDAY knows what to look for. She can take control in that kind of situation. That’s not gonna happen though, is it?”

You looked over to Bucky, searching for some kind of assurance but were met with none. Back to Tony, you said, “I hope not.”

"Come on, Tones. Let’s leave these two to chat,“ Pepper said, recognising once again exactly what you needed. "It was lovely to see you, Y/N. I hope we can have lunch again soon.”

Giving a little wave as they left, closing the door behind them, you sunk to the ground and stared blankly at the room. Before you could fall too deep into your thoughts, Bucky crouched down in front of you and rested his heavy hands on your shoulders. That in itself was enough to shock you out of your spiral but then you looked up and got trapped in his intense gaze. “You’re alright, doll.”

"Am I?“

"Yes. This is just shock about a change. It’s nothing to worry about. My room is only a few down the hallway. If you need me, I can stay with you for a few nights until you settle in.”

"You don’t have to do that,“ you said, your thoughts clearing. "You’re right. It was just shock. I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.”

Rubbing his thumbs over your rough knuckles, mumbling something about how you needed to take better care during training, Bucky brought them to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the broken skin. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

"I’m sure. As you said, you’re only a few doors down. I’m a big girl. I can manage this on my own.“

"If you need anything, you’ll tell me. Right? Anything. You have a nightmare or can’t sleep then you come straight to me. Just like we’ve been doing before. Okay?”

"Yes, I get it! Okay? You have my word. Now, are you gonna help me move the desk out of that corner or just sit back and watch?“


	14. Chapter 14

Are you awake?

Your finger hovered over the send button, reprimanding yourself for how pathetic you sounded. After all the fuss you’d made about being able to sleep in your new room alone, adamant that you could managed without him, you felt so stupid to be texting Bucky at 3am because you really couldn’t cope. The room was too quiet without his heavy breathing. The creaking furniture was far more ominous when you had no one around to blame for the sound.

But those were just excuses, though.

The real reason you hated it so much was because it reminded you of being back at HYDRA. With Bucky in the room it was easy to remind yourself that you were free. But alone again, even surrounded by such luxury, it was too similar for you.

In the end, you decided it wasn’t enough to make you want to wake Bucky, especially not after how little he’d slept the night before. Grabbing your baggy jumper from the floor, you threw it on and headed down to the kitchen. You figured that you might be able to distract yourself by making a meal you probably wouldn’t eat in the end, anyway. But at least for twenty minutes it meant that you could think about something else.

Unfortunately, there was one major fault in your plan which you hadn’t considered. You couldn’t cook to save your life. In a brave but doomed to fail attempt to distract yourself, you grabbed one of Vision’s recipe books from the shelf (he’d been trying to learn to cook in order to impress Wanda but from what you’d heard still hadn’t quite gotten it right). Flicking through the pages, you soon found something that almost looked nice and set to it.

It was a minor miracle that you didn’t burn anything. Somehow you even managed to make the food look like the image in the book when you put it on a plate. As aesthetic as it looked in the darkness of the room, lit only by the small LEDs above the stove, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. You were still struggling with anything more than a piece of toast.

"Smells good,” a low voice said from the doorway.

You spun around on your heels, blades drawn in an instance ready to protect yourself, but dropped the daggers when you caught sight of a familiar face. Your voice wavered as you breathed, “Rhodey?”

"How are you… Whoa, hey,” he began to ask, cut off when you threw your arms around him. He held you tightly until you pulled away and even then he moved a little closer so you were still touching in some way. There was a thick moment of silence between you which you feared would turn sour but he just smiled at you the same way he always had and asked, “Are you gonna eat that?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the nearest stool and pushed the plate towards him, wondering how anyone could even think about eating such a large meal at 3am. “Go ahead.”

"It’s, uh…” Rhodey coughed after taking a large mouthful. Wiping his lips on the back of his hand, he threw diplomacy out the window and laughed, “Hun, it’s shit. Shouldn’t be surprised, though. You always took after Tony in that respect.”

"Well, I don’t need to eat so…”

"Yeah, I heard about that. I guess that means I can’t tempt you with some pancakes?”

You went to answer no but suddenly changed your mind. You couldn’t pull the memory out fully but there was some quiet voice, buried deep within your brain, that wouldn’t shut up about how great his pancakes were. It even boasted the word legendary and that was something you absolutely had to put to the test.

Trying to keep from sounding overly intrigued or excited about the offer, you said calmly, “Pancakes sound nice.”

That was all the encouragement Rhodey needed and he flung his thick jacket over the back of a chair, rolled up his sleeve and set to work. Ten minutes later, you were happily picking away at an enormous stack of pancakes. Every time you managed to make a dent in the pile, Rhodey would dump another few onto your plate until you’d eaten almost your entire body’s worth.

Finally admitting defeat after a portion that even Bucky and Steve with their super metabolisms would have been hard pressed to match, you slumped against the kitchen island and sighed, “I didn’t realise food could taste so good.”

"The Rhodes family speciality,” Rhodey said proudly, stabbing what little remained on your plate with his fork and finishing it off himself. “A recipe passed down through the generations and about the only thing I can manage to make without burning.”

"You can’t cook?” For some reason that surprised you, especially given how great his pancakes had been.

Rhodey shook his head. “Nope. Never needed to. We were catered way back at MIT and then I joined the military and have been fed by great chefs around the world for pretty much my whole life. I can whip up a mean ration pack, though.”

"That’s one food I can manage,” you said, picking the dirt from beneath your nails as you recalled the weeks and months that you’d spent on mission or hiding out in enemy territory with nothing other than dehydrated packets to survive on.

"Good thing we don’t have to eat them anymore, hey?” Rhodey asked, noticing your mood dropping and deciding to change the subject. “So, why are you up so late? Or do we call it early now?”

"Late. It’s only early if you’ve actually slept. Which I couldn’t. New bed,” you explained. “Speaking of; What are you doing, sneaking in in the middle of the night?”

"Would you believe me if I said I had a super hot date?” He chuckled when you shook your head, unable to imagine him being that kind of person. “Worth a try. I got called away for debriefs and a few sensitive other matters that needed addressing. Nothing interesting, trust me.”

You returned his smile, despite the fact you knew there was more to the story than he was telling you. Without even needed to reach out and touch his memories, you knew that he’d been called away to talk about you. No doubt the military were interested in your abilities; it didn’t matter where you were, there were always governments willing to pay (or find other means) for your certain skill set.

Rhodey was the first to look away, his shield finally coming up in the same way that always happened whenever someone spent more than a few minutes in your company. Pushing yourself off the stool, you nodded and whispered thickly, “I’m going to go to bed.”

"Y/N, don’t go. Come on. I’m sorry.”

"It’s fine.”

"No, it isn’t. You know I want to tell you but I signed an NDA for all these meetings. It’s more than my life’s worth.”

"I understand,“ you said, actually meaning it that time. You knew better than most how far organisations were willing to go in order to keep something secret and you didn’t want to put his job (or worse, his life) at risk. "I don’t mean to sound rude but why are you here, Rhodey?”

"Same reason I always end up here. To drag Tony to a meeting that he’s been avoiding for weeks.”

You frowned. “What meeting?”

"Oh, just something with the UN. Not about you. Other issues.” Guessing what you were going to ask next simply from the way you leaned forward across the table, Rhodey said, “You probably haven’t realised, Y/N, but Tony hasn’t left the building since you got back. He’s… Well, I don’t know if I should be telling you this but he won’t so I may as well, like always…”

You resisted the urge to shake him and stop his mumbling from continuing any longer, partly amused by the fact that he was so easy to distract - especially when it came to the many, many ways which he had had to look after Tony over the years. Eventually, you tapped your hand on the table and said, “Uncle, please. You were saying…”

"Yeah, right,“ he said, honestly a little flustered by the fact you’d called him uncle. It was something he’d thought that he’d never hear again so it made his heart swell in his chest to have you speak the word. With a little shrug, trying to downplay the concern he clearly felt for his oldest friend, Rhodey explained, "Tony’s worried about you. He’s scared that if he leaves, you won’t be here when he comes back.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You’d never have believed it from anyone else but from Rhodey? He didn’t seem like the kind of person to lie about something so important. Unable to conjure anything more articulate, you mumbled, “Really?”

"Of course, Y/N. He’s your dad.“ Realising that you were not ready to hear that, he fumbled for a new topic of conversation. "So, uh, why don’t you tell me about some of the books you’ve been reading instead? Tony says you’ve gotten into mythology recently. What kind?”

The next few hours were spent discussing the similarities and differences of many ancient myths, eventually turning to religion and then swiftly away from it when it became far too heavy for a 5am conversation. Neither of you really gave much stock to the belief of a god, seeing how much death and destruction that you had both witnessed and been a terrible part of, but then you couldn’t quite rule out the possibility either. However the idea that some almighty power had decided that this was to be your life? That wasn’t worth thinking about.

By that point, the sun was up and you got your first proper look at Rhodey. You hadn’t realised before but he looked so much older than you remembered. Of course, six years had passed since you’d seen him last, and the usual signs of aging were there, but it was far more than that.

Rhodey’s eyes were sunken, almost dark. The laughter lines on his face had been replaced by ones of great stress and worry. He held his body stiffly like any other experienced soldier but you could tell he was in pain. He was always moving his hand, constantly checking the space at the top of his leg where his gun would normally sit. You could only imagine what the man had been through but were also incredibly impressed - and unexpectedly proud - that he continued to live despite it all.

"You want something for breakfast?” he asked, catching sight of the time.

"No, thank you,” you said, your stomach beginning to feel the effects of eating so many pancakes earlier.

"Help me make mine, then?” At your panicked look, Rhodey added, “You only need to butter some toast. It’s nothing difficult. Promise.”

Rhodey was a real wuss when it came to toast, you found out. The bread had barely been down for twenty seconds before he popped it back up again. He claimed that it was perfectly golden but to you it looked no different that when it had gone in. All he had was slighty warm bread. You didn’t say anything, though. Far be it the place for you to criticise another person’s food choices when you ate so little yourself.

Much to his amusement, you summoned a dagger to spread the butter across his toast warm bread. Once done, you wiped it on a teatowel and kept it in your hand, fiddling with it as you watched a pair of birds jumping around outside on the window. You didn’t realise that the sharp edge of the dagger was cutting into your skin until Rhodey exclaimed, “Y/N, your hand! Are you alright?”

"Oh,” you said, staring blankly at the bleeding cut on your palm. It took you a minute to snap out of your daze and accept the tissue that Rhodey was holding out. You wiped it clean and covered it in a thin gauze, securing it into place without having to look. You couldn’t count the number of times that you’d had to patch yourself up and this was such a minor injury that it barely registered.

Reassuring Rhodey for the hundredth time that you really were okay and it was “basically just a paper cut”, you had just enough time to tidy up the first aid kit before Bucky came stumbling in to the kitchen. His hair was messy, definitely not brushed, and in his tiredness he’d thrown his t-shirt on backwards but it looked like he had slept well. If not for the fact you’d actually really enjoyed spending time with Rhodey, you’d have been jealous. 

"Morning,” Bucky yawned, patting your shoulder when he passed. Nodding at Rhodey, he said, “Good to see you again, Rhodes. You both sleep well?”

He missed the look you and Rhodey shot one another and was too tired to hear the lie when you both told him that you’d slept great. You didn’t like lying to Bucky but it was better for him to think that you weren’t now on your 50th hour without rest. It didn’t matter either way, really. You knew for a fact that you could go at least 55 hours without any major problems so, even though you knew Bucky would disagree, it didn’t seem that big an issue.

"I was gonna go for a walk later. You wanna come, doll?” Bucky asked you.

You nodded, catching view of Rhodey’s interested expression in the corner of your eye. While Bucky busied himself with frying everything for his breakfast, whistling away to himself, you leant over the kitchen island and hissed, “Stop it. It’s nothing like that. Bucky is just… He understands, okay? He’s my friend.”

"Does he call all his friends ‘doll’?”

"I’m sure both Sam and Steve would just love it if he did that.”

Rhodey laughed at that. “I’m just looking out for you, Y/N. Don’t want you to get hurt.”

Thinking about the hand in your pocket, you mumbled, “Not a lot hurts me anymore.”

***

Your walk with Bucky was nice, although you did keep it very short. You stuck close to the Compound’s buildings, barely venturing a feet away. Despite what Bucky seemed to think, you just weren’t ready to go any further. He respected that, though, and was just glad that you were willing to leave the Compound for a while. Even if the second you stepped back inside you’d practically ran to the range to work out your anxiety by shooting things. 

"Must have been good to see Rhodes again,” Bucky said, wiping a cloth over the barrel of his gun. You’d kicked his ass at target practise, again. That wasn’t to say Bucky was a bad marksman. You knew for a fact that he was one of the best. It just so happened that you were better.

"Honestly?” you said, tugging your arrows from the target. You treated them with great care, not least because they were beautifully crafted but also because they’d been a gift from Clint. Lowering your voice in shame, you admitted, “Until he showed up this morning, he hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

"That was bound to happen, doll. You’ve still got a lot of adjusting to do. It’s okay that you didn’t think of him before. Look on the bright side, at least you knew who he was when you saw him. That’s quite a step up from stabbing him.”

You hadn’t thought of it like that and it did make you feel a little better. It did mean something that you’d recognised him instantly. That had to be a show of how important he’d been to you beforehand, if you could still remember him now after everything.

As you finished packing away your things, you grew increasingly more aware of how Bucky continued to steal glances at your hand. Shaking your head, not wanting him to worry, you pulled back the gauze to show the thin cut. “I was buttering bread this morning and got distracted.”

"By what?” he asked, grabbing your bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Birds.”

Motioning for you to step through the door before him, Bucky couldn’t help but frown at your answer. To him, it made little sense how birds had caused you to cut your hand. “Right…”

"I was watching them out the window and wished I could just fly away with them. I got distracted and obviously held my dagger wrong. It cut my hand. End of.”

"Are you alright, Y/N?”

"Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, internally rolling your eyes at such a stupid question. There had to be a million ways to answer that question and very few were positive.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly but his concern radiated from his body. He stood a little closer to you than normal, his elbow bumping against your with every step, his hand hovering on your back a second longer than usual. It was like he was just letting you know that he was right there for you, no matter what you needed. The thought was sweet but the execution made you feel a bit uncomfortable.

Dumping your things on the chair in the corner of your room, Bucky perched himself against the wall and pointed out, “I’ve never seen you cut yourself on your daggers before.”

"That’s a lie,” you countered. “I used to cut my hands all the time when I was first training with HYDRA.”

"Six years ago. Now you’re basically one and the same with your daggers.”

"Do you have a point?”

"I just want to check you’re okay, doll. No need to bite my head off.”

"I’m sorry,” you mumbled, stretching out across your mattress and burying your head in the covers at the foot of the bed. Mumbling so quietly that Bucky asked you to repeat yourself, you said, “I’ve not been sleeping.”

The bed dipped as he sat beside you, gently rubbing circles on your back until you finally sat up. When you did, Bucky rested his hands on your knees and sighed, “You should have told me before, doll. Have you slept once since moving in to your own room?”

You shook your head.

"Oh, sweetheart. Do you need something changing? Is the mattress too hard? Air-con too cold? You know you can ask FRIDAY to fix that kind of thing.”

"It’s so stupid. I can’t… I miss your snoring,” you laughed, although it came out as far more of a sob than a laugh. Remembering how honest Rhodey had been with you earlier, you found yourself driven to be equally as truthful with Bucky now. "I’m scared that I’ll wake up and not see you there and think I’m back with them. Even only for a moment… I can’t face being alone again.”

Bucky opened his arms to you and held you against his chest, silent but saying everything that needed to be said through his actions. You could feel the quiet strength coming off of him in waves, amplified further by the connection to his mind created by his hands on your bare arms.

"Do you want me to stay tonight?

"I don’t need you to do that. I’ll be okay.“

"That wasn’t what I asked. If you want me to stay, I will. The floor. The chair. Whatever you need, doll. You know that.” Not wanting to force you into a decision just yet, feeling the way that you were already beginning to tense up just a little, Bucky placed a kiss on your forehead and suggested you watch a film together. “It’ll help get your mind off of everything else.”

He was right, of course. By the time evening fell, you were more relaxed curled up against his side than you had been for quite a long while. So much so that you actually fell asleep, your mind finally finding peace enough to give in to your body’s necessity for rest. Bucky smiled at you as he slipped free from beneath you, making sure to get FRIDAY to alert him the moment you woke up so that he would be around to make sure you never felt alone again.


	15. Chapter 15

“I can see that you’re hiding something from me, Bucky. It’s putting me on edge.”

“You aren’t going to like it,” he warned.

You raised your eyebrows; when did you ever like what he had to say? Ever since you’d arrived at the Compound, every single piece of news that he gave you only seemed to make your stay that much worse. “Just tell me.”

He shrugged as if to say he’d warned you, then said, “Tony wants to see you in the lab.”

You shook your head. That wasn’t going to happen and you were sure that Bucky already knew that. After the last time you’d stepped into the lab, there was no way that you were going to risk going back again.

“I know you don’t want to, especially after what happened before, but Tony really can’t show you this anywhere else,” he said, sitting down beside you and handing you half of his sandwich. Bucky had noticed that you still weren’t eating much and, while the doctors weren’t so bothered because you were still taking the supplement, he wanted to try and ease you back onto normal foods. You eyed the sandwich cautiously which earned you a familiar eye roll. “It’s just ham and cheese. Eat.”

You tore the crusts off the bread and then handed him back the rest of the sandwich. “What? The crusts are the nicest part. And, anyway, I don’t like cheese.”

“You ate it yesterday.”

Unable to deny that, you grumbled, “I just don’t want it, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll drop it. But you really can’t ignore Tony forever.”

“Watch me,” you said, taking the now crust-less sandwich back from the plate on his lap and grudgingly tearing it into pieces and eating them. “I’ve got more important things to do than talk to him.”

Bucky glanced over at the pile of books that you’d had delivered, not convinced that flicking through the works of obscure 20th century artists was a better use of your time than trying to reconnect with your family and the rest of the world. “Y/N, please. I’m trying real hard here not to throw you over my shoulder and carry you down there myself. There’s only so much patience I have left.”

“Rogers or Wilson?” Your query was met with confusion so you clarified, “Which is testing your patience today? They’re the main two people that seem to piss you off. You’re always much more blunt with me after you’ve been talking to one of them.”

“Sam,” he admitted and, although you pushed for further details, Bucky refused to expand on that. “I know what you’re doing. Trying to get me to talk so that you won’t have to go down and visit Tony. Finish your sandwich and we’ll go down together, okay?”

You reluctantly accepted the proposal and made sure to eat your half of the sandwich as slowly as humanly possible. It was oddly satisfying to see the veins in Bucky’s arm become more prominent as you pushed the limits of his patience, edging nearer and nearer to his breaking point. As loathed as you were to see Tony, you weren’t suicidal so finished eating the sandwich before Bucky’s calm façade finally snapped.

Grabbing the hairband from your bedside table and sliding it on to your wrist, you let Bucky lead you through the Compound, listening to FRIDAY’s warning warnings to make sure that you didn’t cross paths with anyone else. You still weren’t completely comfortable with the other Avengers and avoided them as much as possible - although they hadn’t seemed to get the notice.

No matter where you went, someone always seemed to be there to try and get to know you a little more. It wasn’t so bad when you had Bucky by your side but alone… Well, there was a reason that you never went anywhere alone.

When you reached the lab you tried to open the door, only to find it locked. You turned to Bucky for an explanation but he was as confused as you.

“Boss isn’t ready for you yet,” FRIDAY announced when you tried the door again.

“Screw that,” you mumbled, sliding your hand up the wall beside the door. Searching for the spot where the vibrations changed, you found the spot and then unceremoniously slammed your fist into the wall. You clenched your jaw as a sharp current jolted through your body, but it was nothing compared to what you’d been through in the past. Rummaging around in the wall, you found the bundle of wires you were looking for and pulled them out into the open.

Without so much as a flick of your wrist, you summoned a small dagger – no good for killing but more suitable for the task at hand – and cut the wires in half. The door clicked open and you turned back to face Bucky, expecting him to be impressed.

However, instead of being impressed by your actions, he was angry. He hid it well, as he normally did, but it rolled off of him in waves. “That was stupidly dangerous, Y/N.”

“It was nothing,” you said dismissively. Clenching and unclenching your fist by your side as you worked through the aftershocks of the electricity, you noted that you had managed to tear up all of the skin over your knuckles. It wasn’t that that worried you, though. It was the fact that you hadn’t even noticed the pain. Punching a wall, and almost certainly fracturing a knuckle, should not just feel like a mere pinch.

Wiping the blood on your dark trousers before Bucky had the chance to fuss, you knew it was already too late; he’d seen the damage and would not let you get away from this without a serious discussion. Shaking your head as you crossed the threshold into the lab, you mumbled, “Later, Soldier.”

Tony spun in his chair at your unexpected entry to the lab but seemed too happy that you’d actually decided to come and see him at all to argue the early interruption. He jumped straight into explaining what he’d been up to recently, kicking the stools either side of him away from the work station for you both to sit down in.

Bucky twitched behind you, stopping mid movement when he realised that you were frozen on the spot. He gently touched your elbow and whispered, “It’s alright, doll. Take all the time you need. Focus on the differences. This is not their lab. I’ll keep you safe. Always. You know that. Nothing can hurt you here.”

You drew in a long, slow breath. You were aware of everything in the lab: the bright, artificial lights on the ceiling vying against the sun streaming in from the window for dominance; the high pitched buzz of all the high tech computers and scanners; even the rushing flows of cooling fluids within the joints of Tony’s robots. All so different from HYDRA’s labs. And yet, they did little to alleviate the growing panic in the pit of your stomach.

Every part of your mind knew that this wasn’t their lab. It was Tony’s. And yet…

A cool metal brushed against your hand, startling you out of your memories. Blade ready to attack whoever had been stupid enough to touch you, the dagger fell to the ground with a clatter when you focused your gaze on no one other than Dum-E. He had crossed the room and was basically nuzzling against you like a soppy dog.

“Hey,” you whispered, running your hand over the metallic arm. “It’s alright. I’m okay.”

Dum-E’s pincers whirled around, grabbing at the air in what you could only describe as a strange kind of disappointed dance. He lowered his arm a little towards your bruised and bloody hand but seemed to sense you tense so just nudged you in the side towards where Tony was sat.

You reluctantly allowed the robotic arm to push you across the lab, smiling at the way he visibly perked up when you ran your scarred fingers over the bumps of his mechanics. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes at the ridiculous machine, amazed by just how much like an attention hungry pet he was.

Sat on the stool furthest from Tony, your hands shoved into your pockets, you asked, “What do you want?”

"Y/N…“ Bucky grumbled, shooting you a look that only made you sigh. He was no where near as terrifying as he thought, sometimes. Especially now, in fact, where he mostly looked tired and put out more than anything.

"Fine.” Sitting up straight, plastering on as fake a smile as you could manage, you said, “Hello, Tony. Thank you for dragging me out of the comfort of my room and inviting me to meet in my least favourite part of the Compound. Now, what do you want?”

Bucky opened his mouth to berate you once again but Tony cut him off with an almost imperceptible wave of the hand. “It’s fine. I made you something.”

You pushed yourself off your stool and shook your head. Already half way to the door before Bucky managed to catch your arm and stop you. Tearing free of his admittedly very gentle grip, you said, “No, thanks. I don’t need anything. I don’t want anything.”

"You don’t have to take it,“ Tony said slowly. "I just want you to see it.”

"What is it?“

Almost relieved that your intrigue was strong enough to break through your cold exterior towards him, Tony let out a breathy laugh and said, "It’s better if you just look, instead.”

With a nod, you followed him to the back of the lab where he stored all of his secret prototypes. You’d noticed before - when you definitely hadn’t been keeping tabs on absolutely everyone at the Compound - that no one, not Bruce, not even Pepper, was allowed into this specific part of the lab. This space was Tony’s and Tony’s alone.

It was almost an honour to be welcomed into his secret space. Almost. You refused to let yourself get excited about it, since you already knew what was waiting on the other side of the door. It could only be one thing.

Stepping in to the smaller lab - which was somehow even messier than the benches outside - you wore a rueful smile. Of course, you’d been right. Tony had made you a suit.

"Wow,“ Bucky breathed, far more impressed by the gift than you were.

You had to admit that it was a beautiful suit. It was far less bulky than his, clearly designed for hand to hand combat rather than flying around and blowing shit up like a miniature war bird. The metal armour was shining perfectly in the incandescent light, not a single scratch or bump on the smooth second skin.

Unlike the many suits standing around it, yours was a plain silver; no doubt Tony expected you to choose the design for yourself at a later date. That was not going to happen, and you soon told him as much.

"Look, I appreciate you going to the trouble of making me a suit but I’m not using it. Ever. You may as well tear it apart now. Recycle it into something else. No force on Earth will get me into that suit.”

"That’s alright,“ Tony said, not surprised at all by your dismissal of his gift. He’d been expecting nothing less, truthfully. He’d just been so proud of everything that he’d put in there for you, all the different programmes and protocols that he’d spent the past three years working on just in case you ever came back, that he’d felt an overwhelming need to share it with you.

Still, he hid his disappointment well - naturally you saw through the smile, but it was a good attempt anyway - and he patted your shoulder gently as he turned to leave. "If you change your mind, it’ll still be here. Sorry I interrupted your afternoon.”

You felt a pinch in your chest, guilty for being such a drain on his good mood, certainly not helped by Bucky’s ever present frown, and sighed, “Tony, I… I’m sorry.”

"It’s fine. I understand.“

"I don’t think you do,” you said, chasing after him and slipping past so you blocked the path out the door. Keeping your gaze steady was a challenge, impossible when you actually met his eyes. Instead, you decided to just stare at a spot over his shoulder on the ground. “I can’t be a weapon again. If I do… Well. I just can’t. Tony, I can’t. I won’t.”

Understanding filled his expression. “Oh, sweetie.”

"Yeah. Well.“ You linked your fingers together behind your back, hoping to hide the fact that they were shaking, and grimaced at the warm blood that coated your skin. Immediately shoving your hands back into your pockets, grateful that they were black and not some other light colour, you gave Tony a tight smile.

You were still adamant that you wanted nothing to do with the suit but, for some reason, you also didn’t want to walk out of the lab having hurt Tony’s feelings. Quickly scanning the small room, you set your gaze on a computer screen covered in code and frowned. You walked over to the screen and tapped one of the moving lines, pausing the entire code. "That’s wrong.”

"I doubt that.“

"That might be so, but it’s still wrong. The minute you try to run this simulation the whole thing will fail.”

Suddenly at your side, Tony leaned over your shoulder and said, “Huh.”

"Told you.“

"But surely if…”

"No,“ you said, holding your hand in front of his face to stop him from saying something embarrassingly stupid. Just to prove your point, you tapped the button that began running the programme and the simulation fell apart within seconds. Victorious, you went to gloat but stopped upon catching sight of something else in the code. "Look, there’s another mistake. I thought you were better than this.”

"Rude.“

"If you’re so good, prove it. If you can fix all the bugs when I come by at the end of the week, I’ll be impressed.”

You couldn’t see Tony’s expression, maybe only a slight reflection in the screen, but you could feel him smirking at the challenge. He accepted immediately and only a few hours after you’d left did he actually realise how clever you’d been to find a way to invite yourself back to his private lab and have it not be about the suit. He didn’t complain or even mention it, though, far too worried that you might change your mind at the first chance.

Little did he realise that you were actually - almost - looking forward to it.

Back in your room, Bucky stood by the door with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes dark. He was far from interested in the way you’d dealt with Tony - although later, when he’d calmed down he did admit that he was proud of you for reaching out to your father. He was so focused on your hand that all other worries faded to nothing.

"It’s fine,“ you said, stubbornly refusing to deal with what had now escalated into quite a serious problem between you. What was perhaps the worst thing was that it truly was fine. You couldn’t feel anything other than the warm stickiness soaking through the fabric and clinging to your leg. There was no pain.

You knew that was what worried Bucky the most.

Eventually he moved from the door frame and crossed the room towards your bed. The look in his eye had you instinctively shuffling backwards. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, you knew, but you couldn’t help fear that look of dogged determination on his face.

He froze in the same instance as you and consciously forced himself to stop frowning. "I won’t hurt you, doll.”

"I know.“

"That doesn’t mean you believe it. Please, you know me. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I understand what you’re going through and it’s hard. I get that but you don’t have to hide your pain from me.”

Whether it was his words or the look in his eyes, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you couldn’t take his kindness any longer. Something in you snapped and it all came flooding out.

"You don’t get it!“ you yelled, all of your tension from the last few days suddenly releasing in one, ugly burst. Summoning a dagger, you drew it sharply across the palm of your undamaged hand and watched as the blood dropped onto the clean sheets. In others, such a sight may have caused them to panic but it elicited nothing, not even a wince, from you. "I don’t feel anything! I thought that maybe it was just settling here; that eventually I would start to feel again. But it’s been over a month and nothing! I could amputate my arm and then just go about the day without noticing.”

Catching the way that Bucky eyed the blade in your hand, you shook your head angrily and threw the small knife aside with such force that it embedded itself three inches deep into the wall. “I’m not stupid. I don’t want to die. I just want to feel something. Anything.”

"Y/N, you punched a fucking wall and broke your hand!“

"And still felt nothing!” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Everything that they did to me, the replacements and implants… It changed me, Bucky. I don’t feel human anymore.”

"Implants?“

It took you a moment to realise that he genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. It was almost enough to makes you laugh. Staring at the metal plates of his arm as it clicked back into place, you said, "You thought you were the only one they turned into a cyborg? You’re lucky. You just got a new arm. They cut me open and replaced my joints one by one. My organs. Muscles. I don’t know how much of me is left and how much was made in a lab.”

"Why? Why would they do that?“

"Because you were never as careful as you thought you were. Every beating took its toll. The training was rough and the missions worse. Their serums made me strong but I was still breakable. They wanted to make me indestructible. Turns out they succeeded.”

"I… Doll, that wasn’t me…“

That time you really did laugh. "Of course it was! You forget but they gave me the power to read people’s minds. I knew the difference between you and the Soldier. He only ever stepped in when it came time to kill. The rest of the time, you were in control. You chose to follow their orders because it made you feel like you were resisting. You can lie to yourself but I know the truth. I saw far more, see far more, than anyone realises. I was just a kid but I grew up fast. I had to.”

He reached out to touch your hand but you drew away, going so far as to actually stand on the other side of the room. Blood still dripping from your now numerous wounds, you grabbed a towel and wrapped it haphazardly around your hands. Even you couldn’t deny that it was a shoddy job but you had to do something to avoid his gaze.

Bucky refused to look away, though, so you hissed, “What? If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

"Why didn’t you say something about this before?“

"Because I neither want nor need your sympathy.”

"Come here, Y/N.“

"I’m fine.”

"Y/N,“ he said, his voice edged with just enough of the Soldier’s harsh gruffness to make you look up instantly. It didn’t make you fully relapse into your memories but the familiar voice did bring back fear enough that it was impossible for you to refuse. "Come here.”

A terrible mix of fear and anger bubbling through you, you sat on the edge of your mattress and stared at the man opposite you. “That was uncalled for.”

"It was perfectly called for,“ Bucky said, carefully unwrapping the towel from around your hands. Ordering you to stay put, he returned a few seconds later with a box of medical supplies and began searching through for some kind of antiseptic wipe to clean up the worst of the blood.

You didn’t pull away when he cradled the hand you’d cut with your blade but Bucky felt you tense nonetheless. So gently that you barely registered the movement, he brushed his thumb over your skin and muttered, "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.”

Biting back the horrible retort on your lips, you simply nodded. As little as you wanted him to help you with anything right now, you wanted to go down to the medical bay even less. If you did that then Tony would find out about everything and you weren’t ready for that conversation yet. He was only just starting to look at you with something other than pity or regret. If he knew how HYDRA had literally torn you limb from limb then all that progress would vanish in a heartbeat.

"How come the doctors’ scans didn’t pick up your implants?“ Bucky asked, picking up on your thoughts.

"It was almost sixty years since they gave you your arm. Of course, they had made a lot of progress. They’re pretty much undetectable. Couldn’t have me walking through a scanner and alerting security to the danger.” You shrugged, that being all you knew. You’d hardly been in the right frame of mind to ask about what they were shoving into your body at the time. “The doctors also didn’t know to look. There was no reason to suspect that anything was wrong.”

"Do they hurt?“

"Only when they malfunction or slip out of place.”

"That happens often.“ It was a question but it didn’t really sound like it. Bucky knew firsthand how HYDRA technology wasn’t built for comfort. Also, building in a failure like that meant that you would always have reason to return; no one else would know how to fix them. It was an easy and effective way to keep control.

You winced when Bucky turned his attention to your broken hand, more out of instinct than anything else. Your brain knew that it should hurt and the sight of your bruised and bloody skin only reinforced the idea. Still, though, you couldn’t feel anything. Neither the pain nor Bucky’s careful touch. The few nerves you had in your hands that hadn’t been completely dulled after years of torture were now on their last leg too. You told him as such but he continued to move and act gently nonetheless.

There wasn’t much he could do other than clean up the worst of the wounds and bandage up your hand. Without seeing a doctor you had no way of knowing just how badly you’d injured yourself and even then they would have been able to do nothing to help. You would just have to take it easy for a week or so until your enhanced system found a way to fix itself.

Once he had pinned the bandage into place, you stretched the already too long sleeve of your cardigan over your hand to hide it. Unable to sit still, you began pacing back and forth until you finally gained the courage to say, "What I said about you and the Soldier… That was unfair. And I shouldn’t have been so short with you today. I know you are only trying to help. I’m sorry. I just… My brain…”

"You don’t have to explain, doll. I really do understand.“ He let out a deep sigh and it was as if his entire body deflated. All the fight and anger and fear drained from him until all that was left was exhaustion. Bucky gave you a stiff smile and said, "It’s been a long few days. Why don’t we go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

"If it’s all the same, I’d rather just stay inside and read.“

"You’re on artists now, right?” You nodded, hardly impressed by his remembering since the huge pile of books in the corner provided rather a large clue. Bucky shook his head and said, “Art was never really my thing. Steve, on the other hand. He’s great at drawing. Always was. If things had turned out differently, he’d have been an artist, you know.”

"Why don’t you talk to him? I mean, he’s your best friend but in all the time I’ve been here you’ve barely spoken to each other for longer than ten minutes. I don’t understand.“

"There ain’t much left to say, doll. Steve is still my best friend. Always will be. But we’ve been through so much, it’s hard to find a day when we’re both in our right mind. Things have changed so much. If it’s not about the mission, then we don’t really know where to start. It’s complicated.”

Understanding a little better, you gave him a rueful smile. “Isn’t everything?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter, buckle up because it is painful.

13 hours, 47 minutes and 21 seconds.

You stared at the wall of your cell, following the lines of the cracks in the brick, calculating just how hard you would have to punch to break through. The answer you reached was depressingly expected: too hard for you to succeed. You closed your eyes but the cracks were still visible in the darkness. Yesterday, they’d shone brightly against the shadows as a hope, however desperate, that you might escape. Today, though, they were darker than ever.

You were slowly falling down a hole from which you knew you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself free. The darkness clung to your skin, thick and oozing. It filled you with an absolute hatred, as pure as the original evil itself. Never had you been consumed by such a disgust towards them. Towards him. Towards yourself.

13 hours, 49 minutes and 36 seconds.

The mission - your first real mission - had been a resounding success. You and the Soldier had collected the necessary files and eliminated the target with only 2 civilian fatalities. Witnesses that couldn’t be allowed to live. Your superiors had been so proud; you’d followed orders and gone above and beyond to to protect and serve HYDRA. Their newest asset finally broken in. Little did they realise that this had been enough to break you completely.

13 minutes, 57 minutes and 8 seconds.

It was one thing to eliminate a target - he was rich and generous and everything you HYDRA hated - but you were the one that had “cleared the scene”. A mother and child. They’d seen you. Tried to call for help. You’d almost let them but then that voice in your head had changed your mind.

Two shots. Two warm bodies.

They called them silencers but they weren’t that silent. Not in the middle of the night. Not when they elicited screams like that.

14 hours, 3 minutes and 56 seconds since you’d murdered 2 innocent people for a cause you didn’t believe in. And the worst thing? You hadn’t thought twice about it. You had pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The first handler that came to pull you away for your debrief received a dagger to the chest. He had barely stepped into the room before you threw a blade at him, placing it so perfectly that it killed him instantly. The second man was just as careless.

By the time the third came, wearing full body armour and backed by a group of five security guards (finally having learned from the mistakes of the others) you had simply lost the will to fight. You let them pull you from the corner of your bed and throw you to the ground. Apparently, murdering innocents wasn’t enough to excuse the deaths of their own and they didn’t hold back.

“That was stupid,” the Soldier told you, helping you up from the ground some time later, despite your protests. He pulled you to your feet and perched you on the edge of your bed frame, his disapproval easy to see. “You don’t take your anger out on them. You know that.”

“Made me feel better.”

“Did it?” Really?”

17 hours, 32 minutes and 48 seconds. “No.”

“Well then.” He pulled a small plastic packed from his pocket and handed it to you. “Drink this.”

You grimaced, knowing far too well that the cloudy solution tasted terrible. The Soldier was insistent, though, so you swallowed the contents of the packet in one go, trying hard not to gag as the thick, slimy liquid slid down your throat.

The effect was almost instantaneous. You felt stronger. Your exhaustion ebbed away and you were completely alert once again. It wasn’t real, just a product of chemicals, but it did make you feel a little better and for that you were grateful.

Shifting on the bed, the dark bruises on your skin no longer hurting when you put your weight on them, you asked, “Did they give you that?”

“You needed it.”

You nodded in gratitude, understanding perfectly. He would undoubtedly be reprimanded for taking a healing packet without their permission. However, you couldn’t help but think that maybe they’d be a little lenient seeing how his kindness meant you were less inclined to kill any more of the handlers in the base.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly.

“You are still required to go to the debrief.”

“Are you coming too?”

“After I deliver you to the debrief, I have been ordered to report to the bunker.”

“What?” you exclaimed. “But… You completed the mission. Why are they sending you there?”

“Because I completed my mission. I am to be put on ice until I am needed again.”

You shook your head, unable to see the sense in such a decision. “I don’t understand. We make an effective team. Why are they taking you away now?”

“I was to train you and get you to follow orders. It’s been proven that you can. My mission is over.”

You felt something snap inside you - one of the few strands of hope that you had left. His words bounced around your skull as you began to question whether all his “kindness” had been because it - because you - had been his mission. Every time that he had given you hope that there was a way to escape their control… Had it all just been an act?

17 hours, 36 minutes and 24 seconds.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way this could be the truth. You saw it in his eyes every time he looked at you. There was something in his heart and soul that was never there with anyone else. A soft fierceness, reserved only for you. You couldn’t have imagined that.

And yet, as you stared at him now, you couldn’t help but wonder. His expression was impossible to read, hard as stone. You were too scared to reach out and touch him, to risk finding out that it had all been some elaborate trick to get you into line after all.

“If I fell out of line again, would that stop them from putting you on ice?”

He ran his flesh hand through his long, greasy hair. “Don’t.”

“It’s hypothetical.”

“For your own safety, Soldier, don’t go there.”

Ignoring the fact he so clearly wanted you to drop the subject, you asked, “What have I got to lose? My freedom? My life? I lost those long ago.” 

17 hours, 38 minutes and 59 seconds.

The Soldier sighed, sounding as if he was carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. “There is still a lot they can take from you.”

“Like what?” you scoffed.

“Your memories. Everything that makes you you. You think that all their machines do is make you obedient? There is far more than the simple reconditioning they use on you to make you pliant.”

“Tries to make me pliant,” you corrected, staring at the blood stains on the ground from where you’d killed the handlers mere hours before.

“It can wipe you clean until you are nothing but an empty shell. They will turn you into a mindless puppet. Retrain you until all you know if how to kill. You will lose everything that you were until this life is all you know.”

You hand twitched as you thought about reaching out to comfort the Soldier but decided against it. Something about his dark mood stopped you, warned you that no good would come from such a moment of weakness. Pushing those thoughts aside, you said pointedly, “It doesn’t work.”

“How do you know that?”

“They tried it on you,” you said, that much obvious from the way his entire body tensed the moment he began talking about the procedure. “You aren’t an empty shell.”

“Don’t you see? That’s why they’re putting me back on ice! As little faith as you seem to have in out handlers they do see everything.” Leaning forward and lowering his voice, more emotional than you’d ever seen him, the Soldier said, “They know what - who - is responsible for breaking my conditioning.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your hope is contagious. They feel it too. It’s dangerous. You are dangerous.” He stepped forward, closing the little gap between you that remained. Bending down so his face was directly in front of yours, the Soldier rested his hand on your shoulder, his thumb softly stroking the broken skin at the base of your neck.

Voice still so low that you had to strain to hear, he said, “Separating us before we become reliant on one another is their best option and they know it. They know that I am the only one you trust here and can’t risk you convincing me to strike against them. This is the only we both come out of this alive. Stop fighting and give in. For once in your life, recognise that this is the time to back away gracefully before they make you.”

17 hours, 41 minutes and 36 seconds.

You bit your bottom lip so hard that it began to bleed, the harsh metallic taste filling your mouth. You barely noticed, though. Surprised by his honesty, you responded just as truthfully. “I can’t give up. Not now. Not ever.”

“In that case, I’m sorry, Y/N. You’ve left them - left me - no other choice.”

Something sharp pierced your side, causing you to double over in pain. The Soldier forced you back upright, dropping the used needle on the ground as he hauled you over his shoulder. You tried to fight, to thrash your limbs against his back and demand he release you, but whatever was in the serum with which you’d been injected worked fast.

Your arms were as heavy as lead, the muscles so tight that you were all but paralysed. Barely able to breathe, drawing in oxygen only became harder when you started to cough up an acidic mixture of phlegm and blood.

Everything passed you by in a dark blur until you were suddenly blinded by a terrible light. You were dumped into a chair - the chair - and shackled down. Handler Ivanov, who you were only able to identify based on the fact that none of the other handlers were as wide as him, checked the buckles around your wrists until he was entirely convinced there was no way you could escape.

He then shoved a guard into your mouth - or tried to. The effects of the paralysing serum were wearing off, paired with your own incredible will power, you kept your teeth clamped tightly together. Only when Ivanov had slapped you so hard you thought he’d dislocated your lower jaw did you finally relent and let your lips fall open just far enough for him to shove the guard in to your mouth.

They left you there long enough for your vision to clear, every second agonisingly long as you feared what might happen next. It was bad enough to wait there in the silence and the dim haziness caused by the drug but to be trapped there and able to see everything that was happening around you made it infinitely worse. You saw every smile the handlers sent each other, smug at having finally “tamed” the beast inside you.

18 hours, 42 minutes and 25 seconds.

You watched as Ivanov put his hand on the Soldier’s shoulder in a rare show of congratulations for his actions. It was almost funny when the Soldier grabbed his wrist, pulled it behind the man’s back with a terrible crack, and then threw him to the ground. Standing above the handler, the Soldier pulled his gun from his belt and aimed it at the now quivering man’s head.

The entire room was silent as they waited to see what would happen. No one was stupid enough to risk their life to step in and stop him. As they had found with you, Soldiers on a war path were even more deadly than usual and getting in the way of one was suicide.

There was a collective exhale when, instead of shooting the handler like he deserved for the unnecessarily rough way in which he’d treated you, the Soldier dropped the weapon on the ground and stepped back into the shadows. He lowered his head so to avoid the gaze of the HYDRA scientists in the room, all of whom were confused and to various degrees concerned by his sudden show of restraint.

You knew he could feel you watching him as the scientists injected you with another serum, one designed to make you entirely open to answering their questions about the mission. They shouldn’t have been surprised when it didn’t work. With everything else that you had flooding your system by that point, the mess of chemicals just couldn’t function the way that they had been designed to do.

Instead of giving a full mission report, you answered every question the same way. “19 hours, 14 minutes and 21 seconds.”

Sick of your uncooperative nature, the handlers looked to one another and came to a silent agreement to wipe you entirely. For some reason, the decision made them nervous. You could feel it coming off them in waves, far more than was usual around you.

One tall, skinny man stepped forward from the pack of scientists and started to adjust the controls on the machines around you. While he did that, the lead handler, Belikova, planted himself in front of you and shook his head despairingly.

“All of this could have been avoided if you’d just cooperated.”

“I will never cooperate. I will not comply.”

“You have made that quite clear, Soldier. But everything will be different after this. I’m sure he has told you this already,” Belikova said, glancing towards the Soldier in the shadows. “This procedure is designed to hurt. It’s killed more people than any weapon we’ve managed to design. Survival rate of less than two percent. The benefits, though! A completely blank slate, void of any emotional attachment or memory. The command words might not stick to you yet but they will soon enough. You will be our toy Soldier. Your mind putty for us to mould into whatever shape we desire. Are you scared yet? Because you should be.”

“19 hours, 51 minutes and 38 seconds,” you hissed, praying your aggression would be enough to hide the fact that you truly were terrified.

Belikova laughed harshly. His spit landed warm and heavy on your cheek as he leaned in and whispered, “I am going to enjoy hearing you scream.”

He waved his hand dismissively towards the technician who flipped a few switches and promptly stepped away from the machines, knowing exactly how much damage it could do. And god did it hurt. Every cell in your body was on fire, burning so hot that sweat pooled on every inch of your skin and the only slight reprieve came when end of your nerves were fried, stopping some but not all of the pain signals your body was screaming out. And that was nothing compared to what was happening to your brain.

You could feel your memories being drawn out from the depths of your mind. Every image you tried to conjure turned to white, a blank space in the complex and painful, hilarious and wonderful history that was your life.

“Tony!” you screamed, images of the man you called dad flashing before your eyes. His smiling face slowly fading away. Every memory that you had of him grew more and more distant. The harder you fought to keep the image of him and his ridiculous goatee in your mind the further away it seemed to get. All the fun you’d ever had with his robots and explosives and all the shit that any responsible parent would never have let their child do. It was slipping and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Tears streamed down your face, not from the physical pain - that was so overwhelming that your body’s only response was to scream and scream - but rather the realisation that you had always had more to lose than just your freedom. The futility of fighting hit you hard but it didn’t stop you from trying to remember him.

It wasn’t enough, though.

“Tony Stark will never come for you. You belong to us.”

You were losing him. Losing yourself.

Whenever you feel lost, I promise that I’ll be here to help you find your way back.

Tony’s words from so long ago echoed in your mind, bouncing around your skull until they were all that you could hear. A final promise, one he could never keep, that hung in the darkness long after you finally let go and accepted your fate.

***

There were two beds in your cell but you were the only one there. The other was stripped clean and empty. You felt the mattress; it was stone cold. You were alone here.

You sat in the corner of the room in the shadows, taking in every detail of the room. There was nothing remarkable about any of it. A few cracks in the walls. More than a few dents from where past residents must have punched the thick stone bricks. The unmistakable smell of bleach burnt your nostrils. Someone had bled on the floor - multiple someones, if your observations were correct - but you had no idea who they had been.

You pushed the thoughts aside. If HYDRA hadn’t told you, then it couldn’t be important.

Later that evening, a pair of guards came to escort you to training. You followed them obediently. You stood in an empty room waiting for your handler and trainer to arrive. The men looked you over when they finally stepped into the gym and then smiled at each other. You didn’t ask why. it wasn’t your business. It was irrelevant.

The larger man - Belikova, you heard his name to be - stepped closer and asked, “What happened 23 hours ago?”

“Unknown,” you answered immediately.

“Who is Tony Stark?”

“Unknown,” you answered again, equally as fast. “Is he the target?”

“Not today,” Belikova said. “You have a new training schedule.”

You nodded in understanding, summoning a blade in preparation. “Ready to comply.”


	17. Chapter 17

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“That’s good because I’m not going,” you said, giving him a cold smile when he began to frown. Walking past where he’d made himself comfy on the foot of your bed, you grabbed a book from your shelf and waved it in his direction. “I have a date already.”

Tony had apparently seen the book in a second hand bookshop and bought it for you but you knew better to believe what he said. You knew quality when you saw it and this volume of myths had definitely come from some kind of high end antique dealer. You’d kept quiet though because it truly was a magnificent text and nothing on this Earth would get you to give it back.

Bucky was less impressed by it, though, and snatched it from your hand, flicking through the pages disapprovingly. “For one, none of this is in English. For another, I really don’t think that reading about Norse mythology is more interesting than a games night.”

“You may have forgotten how after you broke free but I can still speak eighteen different languages so that’s not a problem,” you said, grabbing the book back and gently running your fingers down the spine. You felt ridiculous reassuring an inanimate object that Bucky wouldn’t hurt it anymore but did so anyway. “And games nights have nothing on the crazy shit that went down in Norse mythology. So, unless you have a few trolls hidden away somewhere that I didn’t know about, I’ll have to pass.”

“Doll,” Bucky pleaded. He stretched out his arm to try and pull you towards him but you stepped just out of his reach, adamant in your decision. His metal fingers brushed your arm, cold on your skin and sending a shiver up your arm. “Come on, Y/N. Please?”

You let out an almost frustrated sigh, perching on edge of your empty desk and staring right at him. “Why, Bucky? So I can sit there and pretend to be okay? It won’t help anyone. Not you. Certainly not me. I just want to be left alone and have a little bit of peace. Surely you can understand that. The others are nice but I don’t want to be around them. I don’t feel safe.”

You weren’t sure where the admission came from but it was the absolute truth. They all wore carried their demons and it was far too easy for you to see them. They were all capable of such terrible things; even if they were now putting their skills to protecting people, most still had no qualms about killing. You couldn’t be around that.

There were other reasons too, of course.

You couldn’t shake the warnings from HYDRA. While no longer your targets, those old warnings of what they could do hung heavy over your better judgment. It also didn’t help that you could barely look them in the eye without feeling the full force of their worst memories come crashing down upon you. They were so strong, so intense, that you didn’t even need to make physical contact. It just hit you like a paralysing wave of terror and you could do nothing to fight against it.

Recognising the time to give up before he pushed you over the edge, Bucky nodded and reached over to pat you on the knee. His heart wrenching when you jerked away from him, he whispered, “I’m sorry, doll. You know I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

“Always,” you whispered back. “I know you will but I just can’t do this.”

“It’s alright. You can stop apologising. Come here,” he said, opening his arms. You crawled over and let him wrap you in his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder and savouring the comfortable familiarity of the motion. He was always careful in his hugs, worried his arm might cause you damage somehow or that the physical contact would be too much, but today Bucky just held tightly. He understood what you needed and was more than happy to provide it.

So quietly that it was barely more than a breath, you said, “It hurts today.”

It might not have seemed a cause for celebration but Bucky was indescribably proud of you for telling him. It was just another small step on the road forward, trusting someone, trusting him, enough to admit when you were in pain. You both knew there was nothing he could do to help - and that ate him up inside - but just saying the words lifted a weight from your chest.

“If we told Tony…” Bucky said slowly, already knowing how you would respond to the suggestion. He leant back and squeezed your forearms gently, trying to get you to relax a little. Your shoulders had risen almost to your ears and your face was so tense that he thought you might burst a blood vessel. Rubbing this thumbs over your skin, he said, “I get it, Y/N, but he could help…”

You closed your eyes, sighing over the fact you couldn’t feel the soft, reassuring action at all. In lieu of answering, you just rest your forehead against his and concentrated on matching your breathing to his slow, steady rate. That was something you could control. Something you could change.

Eventually, you pulled away with nothing more than a nod to Bucky. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Go get ready for your games night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can stay with you if you want? We could watch a film or something.”

“I just wanna be alone tonight, Buck. There’s always someone around keeping an eye on me. I need to know that I am safe with myself when no one else is there to protect me.”

There was no way Bucky could argue with that kind of request so he pushed himself off the bed, placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and promised to make you something nice for breakfast in the morning. It would probably amount to little more than a bowl of cereal (you’d tried eating more after devouring Rhodey’s pancakes but everything else had made you feel sick) but you knew agreeing would make Bucky a little happier about leaving you tonight.

Finally alone, you curled up at the top of your bed against the hard wooden headboard - which you’d noticed a few evenings ago had somehow been impregnated with vibranium to ensure it was unbreakable in case you had a relapse - and opened your book to where you last left of. Tracing the beautiful pictures with your fingers, you let the ancient stories take you away to another world, where adventure was rife and your pain did not exist.

***

“Go away,” you groaned, rolling over so your back was to the door. You curled your legs tightly to your stomach, hoping in vain that it might to something to stop the crippling waves of pain which now rocked your body. Every nerve felt as if it were on fire and you weren’t entirely convinced that you hadn’t fallen in to the pits of Hell itself.

One second you’d been fine - as fine as you could be in complete and utter numbness to the world around you and everything in it - then the next you’d been shot down with this overwhelming pain. The slightest twitch of your fingers sent a sharp burning feeling tearing through you. Your muscles were tensed so tight that you could barely move an inch and the simple act of breathing was becoming almost impossible.

“I said leave me alone!” you yelled when the knocking on your door continued.

Somewhere above you, FRIDAY tried to tell you who was outside your room but her words fell on deaf ears. Even if you’d wanted to know, which in that moment you most certainly did not, you couldn’t have heard her anyway. Not with the blood pounding in your skull, pushing against your bone with such high pressure that you feared your head truly might explode.

“Y/N, let us help you.”

You tried to look up to where the voice was coming from but could not command your body to move. Panic was beginning to set in now, the overwhelming feeling of being trapped and at the mercy of someone else almost too much to bear. You considered just giving up and letting the darkness take you back. At least there you were free of this fear.

“Stay with us, Y/N,” a second voice said soothingly. A little more harshly, not directed towards you, the woman said, “Do something, Vis!”

You felt a grip around your wrist, lifting your hand up against your body’s resistance. Every inch felt like a million tiny blades were slicing through your muscles, tearing them apart only for them to be stitched back together and then torn again. It was unbearable. Until it suddenly wasn’t.

A warm golden light filled your mind, images from Vision’s memories flooding your senses. They pulled your consciousness away from your physical body, raising it up to a higher plane where there were no such worries as pain or injury. You sat back, floating in a metaphysical space, and watching the images play out before your eyes.

How much time passed before you could hear his voice and understand his words you did not know. All you knew was that one moment you had been alone in the golden light and then the next he was there with you, right by your side.

“It’s time to let go now,” he said, stretching out his red metallic hand. “You are going to be alright, Y/N.”

Reluctantly accepting his hand, you returned to your body with a jolt. It took a second for your brain to register the change in scenery and, when it finally clicked back into place, you leapt off the bed. You backed yourself against the wall, summoning a dagger in each hand. “What did you do to me?”

“Wanda helped you, Y/N,” Vision said, taking a careful step forward. Your blades could not hurt him so he had no worries being around you, however he was aware that in your current state just walking over to you may not be the best course of action. You looked not unlike a wild animal caught in a hunter’s gaze, except you were determined not to be the prey this time.

Holding his hands in the air, sending the red head a silent glance to stay put, Vision said softly, “She won’t hurt you. Wanda helped you.”

“What did you do to me?” you asked again, this time through gritted teeth. You had no interest in hearing how someone had taken pity on you. All you cared about was knowing what had been done to you when you’d not been in the position to protest.

“We blocked the pain,” Wanda answered, ignoring Vision’s obvious protests and taking a step out from behind him. She stretched out her hands and you watched as they began to glow bright red. You could feel a calm beginning to settle over you as she twisted her fingers in the air, a physical tugging in your mind as she tried to pull the bad thoughts from your brain. “That’s it.”

“Please, don’t,” you whispered, fighting against the forced wave of calm with which she was trying to flood your system. When she didn’t let her powers drop, you yelled, “I said stop it!”

You threw your blades in their direction. One passed straight through Vision’s chest and embedded itself in your bookcase. The other got a centimetre from Wanda’s face before freezing in the air, surrounded by the red glow of her powers. She flicked her fingers to the side and the blade fell to the ground.

Stiffly summoning a bigger blade, your eyes dark, you warned, “Get out of my room. Now.”

“Y/N, we only wanted to help.”

“I don’t care. Get. Out.”

You were stood in a stalemate for what seemed like eternity before the door to your room clicked open. Instinctively, you threw your knife towards the intruder but regretted it immediately when you saw exactly who it was.

Sparing the blade embedded in the door an inch beside his skull little thought, Tony stormed into your room and scowled at Wanda and Vision. He had the same air of dangerous around him as a volcano about to explode, albeit a tiny one. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I felt Y/N’s pain from the otherside of the Compound, Tony,” Wanda explained, imploring him to understand. She realised quickly, though, that he was in about as much of a mood to listen as you had been. “We just wanted to help ease her suffering. I had to do something to help.”

“Yeah? Well, you certainly did something. Just get out. We’ll talk about this later. And Vision? You and I need to have a serious conversation about locked doors.”

The second the door shut behind them, Tony was at your side. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there a little awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Deciding that he couldn’t hold back forever, he reached out and offered you his hand. You stared blankly at him until he felt even more stupid than he had before but the instant he pulled back you took his hand and held on for dear life.

“Come with me,” Tony said, although it definitely sounded more of a question than a demand. You nodded and allowed him to guide you through the Compound and out on to the roof. The sun was setting, providing a beautiful warm glow to your surroundings. You took your regular seat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling free, and Tony sat beside you, giving you enough space to decide to either move closer or leave the gap as it was.

Touched by his consideration, you chose to shuffle towards him, closing the gap, and rested your head on his shoulder. Your fingers till linked together in your lap, you asked quietly, “How did you know they were there?”

“FRIDAY told me. She thought you were in danger.”

“So you came to save me.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Without your suit.”

Realising that you were right and charging into danger without any real way to protect you or himself other than his incredibly sharp wit, Tony just shrugged. He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, “I was worried about you. All that mattered was making sure you were okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Tell me. Please.”

“HYDRA did things to me, Tony. Things that can never be undone. You can’t fix this.”

“What if there was someone who could, though? Someone smarter than me. I know, it’s crazy, but they do exist out there. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting them and they’re amazing. Would you let one of them try?”

“They couldn’t fix me.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, sweetie.”

“I know.”

Tony chucked despite himself, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Switching subjects completely, recognising a lost argument when he saw one, he said, “I’m going in to the city next week with Pepper. Do you want to come with us?”

His question caught you off guard. Leaning away from him enough to meet his (nervous) gaze, you asked, “You really think it’s safe to let me leave the Compound? You think I’m ready?”

“Do you?”

“I have no intention of going on a murderous rampage or running back to HYDRA if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Hey, now. I didn’t say either of those things and I certainly don’t believe them. I wouldn’t have invited you to come along if I did. I just asked a simple question. Do you think you are ready to leave the Compound?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’m not worried at all. It’ll be fun. Pepper got us a table at this great restaurant and we can just have a nice day out together. We’ve gotta stop by at a little charity thing but if you don’t want to be see you can just take my credit card and go shopping. Or go to the park. Whatever you want, yeah?”

You nodded, bowing your head to hide the smile on your face. Tony was trying so hard to reach out to you that it was almost painful to watch but the warmth that it left in your chest far outweighed the awkwardness. Picking at the dirt beneath your nails, you asked, “There’s a bookshop nearby? I’ll go hide in there, then. Is anyone else coming along?”

“A few of the guys are coming to the charity thing, yeah. Why? Is there someone in particular you wanted to be there?”

You didn’t have to see his expression to know what he was trying to say. Rolling your eyes so far back that it actually hurt, you asked, “What did Rhodey say?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, holding his hands in the air. You knew it was a complete and utter lie though. You could see it in his eyes, the way they shone with mischief in the setting sun. It was the look Rhodey had told you about, the one that had gotten him into so much trouble over the years and you could see why.

Smiling sweetly, Tony raised his eyebrows and said, sounding a little offended, “I’m not oblivious, you know.”

“I am only going to say this once, Tony,” you grumbled, leaning forward so far that your noses were practically touching. “There is nothing like that between Bucky and I. If you, or anyone else, asks me about it again, I will take this knife -” You conjured another beautiful red dagger and twirled it between your fingers. “- and I will cut out their tongue. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Tony grinned, snatching the knife from your grasp and turned it in his hands. “These really are beautiful, you know. Feels different to how I remember but they are so much more ornate now. I mean, look at this! Do you think about these details on the handles when you summon them or are they just there?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I can’t remember much of the training they put me through. The months, years, of practise aren’t clear. All I know is I think of the blade I need and then it’s there, in my hand.”

Tony nodded, his gaze fixed on the markings in the hilt. “Can I take this? Run some scans and compare it to the ones from before? It’s alright if you don’t want me to but…”

“It’s all yours,” you said, waving his concerns away. “Run whatever scans you want on them but keep the data to yourself. I don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough.” Tony glanced down at his watched, where a small orange light was flashing, before saying, “We’ve got company on the way up. I’ll leave you two be. See you in the morning, sweetie.”

“Good night, Tony. And, uh… Thank you. For earlier. And for everything else, too.”

“Sleep well, Y/N.” Tony waved goodbye, still twiddling the knife in his hand as he passed Bucky on his way back down to the lab to start his scans on your blades. He caught Bucky’s arm as they passed in the doorway and whispered, “Don’t push her. She needs rest.”

Bucky nodded, in complete agreement that now was not the time to push serious topics with you. Instead, he took the space beside you where Tony had just been and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. “Figured you’d be getting cold out here.”

You pulled the soft material tightly around you, breathing in the familiar scent. You weren’t feeling the chill of the evening yet but as soon as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon you knew the temperature would drop quickly. You muttered a soft thanks before making yourself comfy against his side.

He immediately slipped his arm around your waist. You sat in content silence for a long time, more than long enough for the sky to darken and the moon to rise in the sky, before he finally said, “Wanda meant no harm, Y/N.”

“She altered my mind without my permission, Bucky. I can’t forgive that. Not after everything I’ve been through. Good intentions aside, it was the wrong thing to do.” When you closed your eyes, you could still feel the echoes of her touch in your mind, the red shimmer which had the power to alter everything about you. Shivering at the thought of what Wanda was truly capable of, having seen enough from the few snippets of her memories that you caught sight of, you shook your head and changed the subject. “Tony thinks there are people that could help me. With the implants.”

“And?”

“I haven’t agreed to anything, I can’t. But, if I meet them and feel like I can trust them, then maybe I’ll change my mind. I don’t want to get my hopes up, though. I don’t think I could face having them bashed down anymore.”

“Doll, if anyone could survive that, it would be you. You’ve done it before. I’m sure you could face it again.”

“I could,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I want to. Hope is too fragile a thing to lose.”

“You just need someone to put your hope and faith in to. That’s what’s gotten me through a lot of shit in my life.” Before you could ask, Bucky let out a sigh and said, “Who do you think, doll? Stevie’s been there through everything for me. There’s no one in the world that I trust more. And it don’t mean nothing, either. All I’m saying is that it’s good to have someone as an anchor.”

“I have one already. They’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. Unbreakable, even.”

“Who?”

“Myself.” You let out a sharp laugh when you caught his expression in the moonlight. “Don’t get me wrong, Buck. You, Tony, Bruce, Clint, even Sam… You’ve all been so much help to me but I don’t think of you as my anchors. That is a job only I can do. To put that burden on another person is unfair to us both. However all of you… You’re like the links of the chain that pull me back from the depths of the ocean every time I start to sink. Without you, I’d just fall into the darkness. You’re all there to support me and I’m starting to realise just how important that is.”


	18. Chapter 18

You’re doing great, sweetie,” Tony said, his hand tightly holding yours as you walked down the streets of New York. It wasn’t like you were on a busy street or anything; rather he and the other Avengers took a convoluted route of back streets to make sure that they weren’t swarmed by a crazy mob of fans. But, even so, you could still hear the sounds of the rushing traffic, the anger of the busy people laying heavy on your mind.

“How much further?” you whispered, shuffling against his side so you were practically joined at the hip. Your anxiety about being out in the city was not so much based in the fear that the overstimulation of your senses would send you into a rampage. No, if anything, the loud noise, the overwhelming smells and the taste of the polluted air were almost comforting. It was too much for your brain to bear so it simply blocked out the input, making your mind quiet and almost peaceful.

Instead, your anxiety was based on what was to come when you reached your destination. Tony had told you what to expect - and had even made it sound intriguing enough to make you want to stay and not disappear to the nearby bookstore - but you couldn’t help fear the reaction of those waiting for your arrival. It was a silly worry to have, seeing how they knew neither of your existence nor your terrible past, but the fear of rejection by strangers was strong.

“Not far now,” Tony assured you. In fact, at your question, he turned around to Peter and said, “Better suit up now, kid. Don’t want anyone to catch you with us in your civies.”

“On it, Mr Stark,” Peter said, diving behind a nearby trash can. A few seconds later, he reappeared, covered head to toe in Tony’s frankly beautiful tech, climbing up the wall and swinging between the buildings ahead of you. Looking back at you and others, Peter called, “I really do love this suit, Mr Stark!”

Both you and Tony smirked at his behaviour, amused to no end by his endless enthusiasm. Looking over at Tony, you said, “You should stop encouraging him, you know.”

“I’ve tried, believe me. He’s like a dog with a bone. At least this way, I can keep an eye on him and make sure he is safe. I can make sure he’s prepared.”

Tony didn’t need to say unlike you. The message, the regret, was clear enough. Instead of focusing on his failure as you may well have done a few months ago, too tired to dwell on hatred and blame anymore, you simply squeezed his hand and said softly, “You are doing a good job with him. With them all.”

You managed to render Tony speechless with your compliment.

As you rounded the corner to your destination, Bucky caught up with you and Tony. He bumped his arm against yours and checked that you were certain you wanted to go through with this. There was still plenty of time to change your mind but you were set on doing this, if for no other reason than trying to make Tony happy.

And anyway, you knew that if you panicked during the event at any moment you could always leave through one of the many backdoors. You’d done your research on the building before leaving the Compound and knew every exit and escape route within a mile of this place. It would all be okay.

The second you stepped in to the building, you began to question whether that was true after all.

The lobby of the children’s hospital was jam packed with people. Cameras were flashing from every direction, all the chattering dying down as you and the others stepped in to the centre of the room. So many people, all their attention on you, wondering who you were and why you were there. Staring. Whispering. About you.

Your worries quickly dissipated, though, when a small child ran up to your side and grabbed your hand, pulling you to a stop. She had to be no more than six. What little blonde hair she had was tied up into a small pigtail. Her skin was dull but there was a light shining in her eyes that nothing would ever take away from her. Practically jumping up and down, she looked between you and Tony and opened her mouth to speak but only a tiny squeak of excitement came out.

Tony crouched down, staring up at you from the ground and nodding his head sharply to get you to follow suit. She wrapped herself around his leg, as if he were her favourite teddy bear. Tony pried her away from his leg, holding her carefully by the shoulders. With a dazzling smile, he said, “Well, hey there. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“My name is Annie,” she blurted, the words running so quickly that it sounded like one unintelligible blur. Poking Tony in the chest, right over his reactor, she squealed, “You’re Iron Man! Who’s your friend? She’s so pretty.”

“This is, uh…” Tony stumbled, not entirely sure how to introduce you.

Filling in the silence almost instantly, so quickly that no one would have known there was a gap, you slowly held out your hand and said, “I’m Y/N. I’m friends with the Avengers.”

“Can we be friends too?” Annie asked, staring up at you with wide eyes. She looked at you without fear, as if you were some kind of battle weary angel come to protect her from her illness. “Please? I’ll let you have one of my chocolates.”

“We can be friends,” you said, the corners of your lips turning up in a smile. “But only because you offered me chocolate.”

Annie disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear a minute later carrying a box of sweets. Her nimble fingers pulled off the lid and she began describing what each of the ten different chocolates tasted like. Her words were drowned out by the noise of the rest of the room but you smiled at her nonetheless and she dropped a chocolate into your hand with the declaration, “These are my favourites. I think you’ll like them too.”

“I’m sure I will,” you said, sliding it into your pocket. While your stomach had adjusted to plain simple foods it still had a bit of trouble when it came to sweets. To stem her disappointment at not seeing you eat it, you took Annie’s hand and guided her to the side towards the huge box that had been wheeled in behind you and the other Avengers.

Reaching in, you pulled a present from the crate and handed it Annie. “Thank you for sharing your chocolates with me. This is my friend, Iron Bear. He’s very brave, just like you. Can you look after him for me?”

She nodded, pure joy lighting her face. Annie held the bear close to her chest, placing the purest and sweetest kiss on the top of its head. She sang a thank you before running back to her parents in the crowd, wearing the biggest smile you had ever seen.

Left alone, you looked up to find Tony and met his gaze across the room. He winked at you before sending another child over towards you - officially designating you as the gift giver of the day. Within seconds, you were surrounded by children, all looking at you with big, round eyes hoping that you would give them a gift. Of course, you did. There were enough gifts in the crate for five times as many children as were here so naturally you gave multiple away to every child.

Bucky appeared around an hour in to the event, a shy child hiding behind his leg, popping his head around the corner of a hallway to grab your attention. He crouched down beside the young boy, probably about seven or eight, and whispered something to him that made him laugh nervously. Beckoning you to join them away from the rest of the crowds, you grabbed a handful of toys from the crate and headed over.

“This is her,” Bucky said softly, practically melting when the child gripped on to his metal arm for support, struggling to balance for a long time on his crutches. You knew Bucky was still worried that people feared his metal arm but to see a child clinging on to it without fear was another step closer to overriding some of the bad memories that he associated with the prosthetic. “Y/N, I’d like you to meet Ricky. He’s having an operation tomorrow.”

“What are they doing?”

Ricky tapped his knee, then his hip. “My bones are really weak. They’re putting in new joints so I can walk properly.”

“Are you scared?” you asked, realising why Bucky had brought the kid over to you. When Ricky nodded, you knelt down in front of him and pointed to the same places on your body. “I have artificial joints too. And you don’t have to be frightened about them. I know it’s scary to have bits of metal and plastic in your body but they’ll make you strong. You’ll be able to do things that no one else can. Run faster. Jump further. You’ll be just like a superhero.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up, like this was something he’d never thought of before. Leaning over Bucky’s arm, bringing his face up closer to yours, suddenly more serious, he whispered, “Will it hurt?”

“Maybe for a while,” you answered honestly. “But remember that every superhero has to have a painful backstory before they can become the true hero they’re meant to be.”

“Supervillains have painful backstories too,” Ricky pointed out.

You glanced at Bucky, who was trying his hardest not to laugh at your flustered expression. The kid had an excellent point and you weren’t entirely sure how to argue against it. Instead, you pulled the presents from behind your back and held them out to the boy. “You can only have these if you promise to use your new powers for good.”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, accepting the gifts with a smile that he tried to hide but shone through nonetheless. “I guess I’ll be a good guy. Unless the bad guys give better presents.”

“Trust me; they don’t.”

Ricky somehow managed to tuck all the gifts beneath his arms and hobble off on his crutches back to his parents, standing a little taller than he had been before. Like all the children there, he was so brave. It made you feel unexpectedly good to be able to offer them a little comfort and hope, something you’d never thought yourself capable of before.

At your side, Bucky draped his arm over your shoulder and gently kissed your forehead. “You’re doing so well, doll. The kids love you.”

You rested your head on his chest and sighed. “I wish I knew why.”

“Because you are kind and caring and you understand exactly what they’re going through,” Bucky said, gripping your arms and almost shaking sense into you. A few strand of dark hair had fallen loose from his bun, framing his face and making his stare seem so much more intense. “Kids are perceptive as hell, Y/N. They don’t know you but they know you’ve been through a lot. You radiate strength and that’s exactly what they need here. Someone who’s seen Hell but made it out on the other side.”

“But that… HYDRA were something I could fight. Half these kids are terminally ill. There’s nothing that can save them. What good is a smile and a teddy bear then?”

“Oh, doll. You really don’t see it, do you? Us being here, you being here, gives them hope. In the darkest of times, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to create a flame that burns so deeply that it keeps us going. We beat the impossible and live the rest of our lives because someone was kind enough to smile and remind us the reasons to hang on. That’s why we come here. That’s what it’s really about. Giving them hope. And there is no one in the world better at that than you.”

“Bucky, don’t…” 

“It’s the truth, doll. You’ll see how special you are one day.” He closed his eyes, recognising that now was not the right time to continue this conversation. Instead, he gave you a slightly tight smile and said, “Come on, let’s go and find Tony. Pepper will be here for you guys soon. Are you looking forward to lunch?”

“I might be if Tony would tell me where they’re taking me. He said Pepper had booked a table somewhere extra special and I’m just worried that it’s going to be somewhere that I can’t eat a thing.”

“Give them a little credit, Y/N. They know what you’re up against. I’m sure it will all be fine.”

You mumbled an unconvincing agreement as he led you back into the busy foyer. The presents were all gone now and most of the children were just sat at the sides playing with their new toys. In one corner, Steve and Natasha were sat with a group of teenagers, regaling grand tales of spies and villains which definitely never happened. Bruce was curled up in another corner, reading fairy tales with a young girl and Peter - or rather Spiderman - was showing off by hanging upside down from the ceiling and letting the kids push him around like some kind of living pinata.

Tony jumped up from where he was sat with a group of hospital employees and strode over to your side, the biggest smile on his face. He clearly wanted to shout it to the world, but instead restrained himself a little when he said, “They all loved you, Y/N. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I did,” you answered honestly, surprised by the answer yourself. “Thank you for inviting me, Tony.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Are you good to go? Pep is waiting outside.”

You glanced over to Bucky who nodded, silently encouraging you to be brave and go through with this against your own fears. Surrounded by so many brave children, going through the worst possible things, you knew this was nothing to worry about. Smiling to Tony, you said, “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

As Tony has promised, Pepper was waiting outside the hospital for you both, looking as beautiful as ever. She had her hair tied back and even though she was only wearing jeans and a blouse she could have come straight off the catwalk. Her smile grew when she saw you at Tony’s side.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with us, Y/N,” she said, actually switching off her phone and dropping it into the bottom of her bag. Pepper brushed her lips against Tony’s, mumbling something in his ear that made him beam like a kid at Christmas, then took his hand in hers.

She asked all about the hospital visit as you walked down the street, genuinely interested in what you and Tony had to say about the kids and the staff. You were surprised that you hadn’t taken a car instead of walking but apparently the restaurant wasn’t far and they kept to the less busy back streets to help you feel a little less overwhelmed by it all so you weren’t too bothered.

As you walked past many fancy restaurants, you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter with every step. It was one thing to stare at food and not eat it but there was something about all these high end places that made you feel… bad, for lack of a better word. Their clientele were the most prestigious people in the world and you knew you would feel incredibly out of place eating at any of them. Also, you knew far too many details about half the people eating there and being near them, knowing what they’d done - or, rather, gotten other people to do for them - made you feel quite sick.

However, instead of turning in to one of these fancy places, Tony and Pepper kept on walking. Further and further you went until you finally stopped by a building which truthfully looked as if it should have been demolished a decade ago. Catching your horrified expression at the exterior, Tony laughed and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door. “It’s much better inside, I promise.”

He hadn’t been lying.

You stepped inside and were blown away by the change of atmosphere. Where outside it had been cold and depressing, inside it was one of the cosiest places you’d ever seen. There were maybe only eight tables in the whole place, each separated from the rest by beautifully painted screens. Strings of fairy lights hung from the ceilings and gave the whole place a warm, homely feel. It was amazing.

And so familiar.

“I’ve been here before,” you said, running your fingers over the carefully carved banister. A smile played on your lips as you anticipated the huge dent in the wood, fragmented memories of this place playing in your mind. You opened your eyes to see Tony’s almost worried faces but your smile didn’t dim. It grew bigger. “We came here. To celebrate something. We ate until you were sick.”

Pulling out a chair for you at the table, Tony took the seat to your left and Pepper sat to your right. He tugged on the edge of the table cloth and you pretended not to notice his nerves at being here with you again. “Do you remember what we celebrated?”

“That’s a bit fuzzy.”

“You got suspended from school for a week.”

“And you took me out for pizza to celebrate that? What kind of parent were you?” Not giving him time to answer that particular question, you asked curiously, “What did I do?”

Tony frowned. “You know, I don’t actually remember… Pep, what was it?”

“She set fire to the chemistry lab, Tones.”

“You forgot that?” you asked Tony incredulously. “What else did I do, if that barely ranked?”

“I set fire to stuff all the time. It’s not exactly a big deal, is it? You used to play with C-4 at the weekends so simply burning stuff was really a quiet Wednesday afternoon.”

You could see Pepper absolutely despairing at your side, so much so that she waved the waiter over to distract herself from this complete pyromania to order you all food. While she did, you turned back to Tony and said softly, “Thank you for bringing me here. And for everything else too.”

Tony bowed his head. You knew that beneath the table he was wringing his hands, like he always seemed to do when he was nervous or feeling particularly self conscious. “It’s nothing, sweetie.”

“But it is. Something, I mean. So, thank you.”

Before you really knew what you were doing, you threw your arms around his neck and held him in a tight embrace. He sat as stiff as a rock, trapped in your hug, but the second you went to pull back his senses seemed to return to him and he refused to let you go. His cheek against yours, Tony whispered, “I will always be here for you. Whether it’s setting things on fire or taking you out for lunch or just buying you new books and sitting in silence on the roof, I will be here for you. I love you, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

“Tony…”

“It’s okay,” he said, leaning back and brushing a piece of hair from your face. “You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy the food and your freedom from Barnes.”

“Tony!” Pepper said, scowling at him. You could tell by the way he jumped that she’d kicked him under the table for his comment, something you couldn’t help smiling at.

“What? You’ve seen him, right? He follows her around like a lovestruck puppy!”

Through gritted teeth, Pepper insisted, “Yes, I know, but we discussed this. Don’t make it worse! I’m sorry, Y/N. You’ll have to forgive his meddling. It’s none of our business what you two get up to.”

Praying for divine intervention to save you from what was beginning to feel an awful lot like the talk with your surrogate parents, you nearly leapt out of your chair to kiss the waiter when he came over with your lunch. You nodded to Pepper in thanks for ordering just a plain margarita pizza for you and couldn’t help but marvel at the ridiculous creation that she and Tony were sharing.

Half was healthy and elegant with respected combinations of vegetables and cheese - definitely Pepper’s side - while the other half was a bizarre mix of extremely expensive meats and processed cheese that had so little dairy in it that it could hardly be called cheese. There were crappy hot dog sausages amid the Italian meats, flown over from the continent no doubt, and the entire thing was smothered in ketchup.

Staring at the pizza with your mouth hanging open, Tony patted you on the shoulder and grinned. “It’s amazing, right?”

Unable to hide your smile, you cut into your own pizza and, your mouth full, said, “That’s certainly one word for it…”


	19. Chapter 19

“FRIDAY,” you whispered, the quiet words echoing down the length of the dark, empty hallway. “Can you open the door for me?”

“Is everything alright, Y/N? Do you need me to wake the boss?”

“No, I’m fine,” you reassured her, stretching your arm out and touching the wall gently. You weren’t entirely sure why you thought it would help convince the bodiless AI that you really were okay but, seeing how she was basically one and the same with the Compound, it couldn’t hurt to treat the building to a kind touch. “Don’t wake Tony. Not if he’s finally sleeping.”

A little surprisingly, it did seem to help. Whether that was her “feeling” your comfort through the wall or just her scans confirming your statement you weren’t sure. All that mattered was that the edge to FRIDAY’s voice disappeared as she asked, “If you’re okay, why are you sneaking around in the dark?”

You shifted awkwardly on your bare feet, shoving your hands in the pockets of your pjs. FRIDAY may have had no eyes (made up for enormously by the fact she had “eyes” everywhere) but you could feel her stare on you and it made you feel so embarrassed for being there. Keeping your gaze on the ground, you mumbled, “It’s storming.”

That was all the explanation FRIDAY needed. The door in front of you clicked quietly as it swung open and you stepped silently into Bucky’s room. You weren’t surprised to see him sat in the chair in the corner. Purposefully making more noise than you ever normally would so not to appear at his side from nowhere and scare him into doing something rash, you walked over to him and perched yourself on the arm of the chair.

You softly rested your hand on shoulder, stroking the base of his neck with your thumb. “Hey, Bucky.”

Not looking away from the spot on the ground that he was staring at, Bucky said levelly, “Hey, doll.”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” he asked. After a moment’s hesitation, Bucky turned to face you and immediately got his answer. Before he could say anything, a deafening crash of thunder struck, sending you both flying from the chair. Even though there was no window in the room, you knew the moment that the lightning struck. It was like you could feel the energy being discharged through the air and it made all the hairs on your arm stand tall.

Setting your gaze on Bucky once again, focusing on him through the darkness, you were relieved to see him maintaining at least a shred of calm. It was tenuous, that was for sure, but he wasn’t yet in a full panic and that made you feel far safer. Realising that you had nothing to defend against, you sent your blades back to wherever in the void you’d summoned them from with a flick of your wrists.

You reached out for his hand, barely shivering when you felt the cold metal against your flesh. “Why do you stay in here when it storms, Buck? In the dark where you can’t see the storm?”

“It’s safe,” he said gruffly, sounding far less put together than he outwardly appeared. His deep voice was trembling and you could hear the vibranium plates of his arm clinking and readjusting every few seconds as he tried to stay calm.

“Locking yourself away won’t help. Doing this alone… It isn’t easy. It just makes it harder to be strong.”

“What do you suggest instead?”

“Come outside with me?”

Bucky could barely keep the surprise from his voice. “You want to go outside? In the middle of the worst storm the city’s seen for a decade?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

“You’re crazy,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a compliment but you could both hear and feel the affection underlying the statement so certainly took it as one.

“Please?”

You grabbed one of his hoodies from the floor and slipped it on over your pjs. Bucky tilted his head to the side, a curious look on his face as he watched you adjust the oversized hoodie. Stepping forward to help you, backing off when you all but growled that you could manage on your own, he asked, “As cute as you look in my clothes, doll, why bother when you’re gonna get as soaked in that as you would without?”

“It needs a wash and this is the only way it’ll ever get clean?” You knew he wouldn’t buy that as a reason - and he definitely didn’t, even though there was an element of truth to it - so you instead let out a sigh and mumbled, “I like the smell, okay? And the fabric is so soft and warm. I’ll take it off if it bothers you.”

“No, keep it on. It’s fine. You’re sure you wanna do this? I can’t tempt you with just a cup of tea instead?”

“If you don’t want to go outside, it’s fine.”

Catching the way your shoulders sagged, Bucky let out a sigh and pulled you against his side just as another enormous crash of thunder sounded. He kissed the top of your head and pulled you towards the door. “Come on then, doll. If I get a cold, I’m blaming you.”

“Can you and Steve actually get ill?” you asked, leading him along the familiar path up to the roof. “Does the serum even let it happen?”

“Not yet.” Bucky answered honestly. “I keep trying, though. I’ve been a guinea pig for all kinds of dangerous vaccines and diseases. None of them seemed to do permanent damage.”

“And you call me self destructive.”

“That’s for good reason, Y/N. You always end up getting hurt. I know; you say you can’t feel it but that doesn’t make it better. You’re still doing the damage. Nothing I do seems to make a difference anymore.”

“Can we not talk about this, please? I didn’t come to find you in the middle of the night to discuss our many issues.”

Bucky held his hands in the air, admitting defeat and dropping the subject. You both knew it was something you’d need to talk about eventually but until that time came you were more than happy to pretend that you were at least semi-stable.

Pushing open the door to the roof, you were immediately hit by the rain. It was cold and felt like a million tiny shards of glass against your skin but you didn’t care. In fact, you relished the feeling for just that reason. Because you could feel it. You could feel the damp on your face. The cold, almost uncomfortable trickle of raindrops running down your neck. Your hair whipping your cheeks. The cold seeping in to your core.

There was so much power in the air, the buzz of electricity even stronger now that you were outside and not protected by the walls of the Compound. The wind swirling around you so quickly that it threatened to lift you off the roof and toss you aside like you weighed no more than a piece of paper. It was invigorating and utterly terrifying at the same time.

It took you a few seconds to realise that Bucky had taken your hand and was trying to stop you from running out into the storm. “Okay, we’ve been outside. Can we please go back in now, doll?”

“Come on! This is amazing,” you said, yelling to be heard over the storm.

“Y/N, enough,” he said, a little more insistently this time.

You frowned, taking a step back towards him but making it clear that you weren’t going to go inside so easily. Resting against the door, half in, half out, you shook your head. Lightning lit up the night sky, a burst of pure, dazzling light across the horizon in the most incredible sight. “No, Bucky. It isn’t enough. I spend every minute of every day wondering when I will feel something again. When I will finally feel alive. And this? This is it! The power and rage and beauty of it all. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes and that power is why I don’t want to be out here. Y/N, you’re being reckless.”

“It’s just a little storm, Bucky. It’s not an alien attack or the end of the world. What harm can come from this, really?”

Not bothering to wait for his response, you tugged your hand free and walked to the centre of the roof, putting yourself at the mercy of the storm. You closed your eyes and stretched out your arms, feet just wide enough apart to stop yourself from being blown over. For once, surrendering your strength and control didn’t feel like the most terrifying thing in the world. It was a weight off your chest, your stress and worries (of which there were many) just floating away in the wind.

You screamed when you felt a pair of arms slip around your waist but melted into the warmth when Bucky mumbled in your ear, “It’s just me, doll.”

“What changed your mind?” you asked, twisting around in his arms so you were facing him. He held you tightly, protecting you from the storm on one front at least. You held on to his forearms to steady yourself, strong and sturdy as always.

Bucky shrugged, shifting on his feet and inadvertently pulling you closer. He brushed a piece of wet hair from your face, the gentle touch so at odds from the swirling storm around you. More than once he opened his mouth to speak but always changed his mind, shaking his head. You could feel the mess of emotions rolling off him, raging like the wind, but you made no attempt to push further into his mind. That wasn’t your place.

The whole time, Bucky watched you with a soft look of wonder. Even when he thought you couldn’t see, when you were staring over his shoulder at the lightning against the city skyline, you knew that fierce gentleness was still there.

When he finally came to a decision of what to say, his words were interrupted by the slamming of the roof door. You slipped from his arms, running over to the door and trying in vain to pry it open. Calling for FRIDAY did no good; a quick check of the external sensor systems on the roof showed that they’d short circuited.

“How far do you reckon it is to the ground?” you asked, peering over the edge of the roof. Bucky grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back, hoping to stop you from caving in to the overwhelming temptation to jump. You rolled your eyes at that, mumbling, “I’ve jumped further. Way further, actually. I’d be okay.”

“I’m sure that’s true but we’re not putting it to the test.” Dragging you to the other side of the building’s roof, one hand firmly holding your arm and the other comparatively gently on your back, he said, “Come on, there’s a ladder back here.”

A few minutes later, you and Bucky were climbing through the kitchen window, trying your best not to knock anything over and wake the rest of the team - but seeing how they’d all somehow managed to sleep through the storm you couldn’t see a falling lamp waking them now. Laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, you just started laughing, the ridiculousness of the night beginning to hit.

Bucky helped you to your feet, all but ordering you to take off the soaked hoodie before you got the chills. You grumbled a protest but soon stopped when he returned with two clean and dry jumpers from his wardrobe, one for each of you. While he busied himself with making you hot drinks, you stripped off your pjs and snuggled into the huge sweater, curling your legs up inside it and making yourself comfy on the sofa.

Handing you a mug of cocoa, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smile at the sight of you so relaxed in his clothes, Bucky sunk into the space beside you. You drank your cocoa in a comfortable silence until he finally asked the question that had been on his mind all night, “Why did you come find me, doll? Really? I saw you out there; you didn’t need me. So why bother?”

“No one should be alone when they’re scared. I know storms make you anxious. Even before everything HYDRA put you through, you still went to war, Bucky.” You reached out and found his hand, linking your fingers through his, squeezing them gently. It took a while for him to relax but when he did you didn’t pull away. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of that storms remind you of some of the terrible things you saw back then. I just wanted you to feel safe. To know that sometimes it’s me keeping you safe and not the other way around.”

“You wanted to keep me safe by taking me outside into the very storm that scared me?”

“Well, I didn’t say I was good at this. It’s the thought that counts. Facing your fears and all that crap, right?” You took a sip of your cocoa, the sweet, warm liquid bringing a welcome warmth to your cheeks. “Since we’re being honest, what made you join me in the rain, Buck? You could’ve stayed there by the stairs but you didn’t.”

“I don’t know, doll. Sometimes a person just changes their mind.”

“You’re being evasive again. Come on, tell me? Please?”

“It really doesn’t matter,” he insisted, his metal hand gripping his mug just a little tighter than before.

You knew you should drop it but curiosity was such a terrible thing. You already knew the answer, at least you thought you did. You just had to hear him say it aloud. You had to know. So you pushed again, a little harder than before. “Bucky… Why did you do it?”

“You looked beautiful.”

You felt your stomach knot at his words, even though you’d been expecting something similar. You half wished that you hadn’t asked but Tony and Rhodey’s teasing had been playing non stop in your brain for days and you’d had to know the truth. Hoping to give you both a way out of the conversation, you said with force levity, “Like a drowned rat, you mean?”

Bucky shook his head. He lifted his gaze from the mug to your face and his expression almost broke you. Everything he’d tried to keep locked up had finally broken through the surface. He cared for you dearly, almost more than life itself, but it was underscored with so much darkness. He hated himself for loving you; it wasn’t fair to either of you, not when you weren’t in the right place to give or receive affection like that. He was terrified that with three words he’d managed to ruin your entire relationship, to break the bond that no one else could ever understand.

There was a long moment of silence between you, more charged than the storm outside, as you both considered how this could go. The unspoken agreement that if he simply shrugged and brushed it away that everything would return to normal. It could be forgotten and nothing would have to change. But if he didn’t… If he spoke his thoughts, then everything would be different.

Not giving himself a chance to change his mind, Bucky rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand and confessed, “No, doll. You looked like an avenging angel. All that beauty and power and I just couldn’t stop staring. I wanted to be a part of that with you, to feel your joy and to finally see what it was like to have you happy. To see what it took to get you to look at me the same way that I look at you every single day.”

You closed your eyes, the only way you were able to give yourself a minute of privacy to think about a reply. It didn’t help; there was no adequate way to respond. In that moment, still holding his hand, you realised that you didn’t need to answer. Not really. Bucky already knew how you felt.

His fingers brushed over yours, pulling the warm mug from your hand and placing it on the table beside his. Then, without a word, he leant forward and kissed you slowly, barely more than a brush of his lips against yours. That simple touch was filled with such intensity, though. Months’ worth of repressed emotions all packing into one simple kiss. Bucky gave you every opportunity to pull away, to tell him to stop, and when you didn’t he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you again.

It was more urgent this time but still so painfully slow and restrained. His fingers tugged on the short hairs on the back of your neck, tilting your head back to the perfect angle for you to melt into his touch. Your breath hitched when he began dotting kisses along the length of your jaw and down your neck, on every little scar and mark you hated, his soft lips soothing the scratch of his stubble on your skin.

It was overwhelming. And, all of a sudden, not in a good way. Squirming out from beneath him, you put your hand on his chest to gently but firmly push him away. Resisting the urge to leap off the sofa and run back to your room to hide in the dark, you mumbled, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“God, don’t apologise… It’s okay, doll,” Bucky whispered, running a shaking hand through his hair. He shuffled backwards, giving you as much space as he possibly could without giving in to his own instinct to run and hide. “I shouldn’t have… I’ll, uh… I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Please, don’t.” You caught his hand but immediately let it drop. You knew what you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words. How could you even begin to explain the mess of emotions inside your mind when you could barely separate them yourself. Instead of speaking, you just stared at Bucky in hope that he understood what you were trying - and failing - to say.

You never got to find out if your message came through or not for all of a sudden there was a bright flash of light, mere feet away from where you sat, that snatched your attention. It was a hundred times brighter than any lightning strike could ever be and composed of colours you had never seen before in your life. In the middle of the rainbow spectacle were two figures, tall and projecting an air of power that pushed you over the edge.

Jumping to your feet, you summoned a sword and held it high, poised to defend your home from the intruders. Your voice so hard that even Bucky, who knew you’d never hurt him, flinched at the tone, you demanded, “Who are you?”

“You’d needn’t fear us,” the larger man said, holding his hands up in the air in a sign of peace. You found it hard to believe that that was his intention when the slimmer man behind him had also summoned a pair of daggers and was striding forward with a vicious smirk on his face. “Please, we mean you no harm.”

Bucky suddenly regained his senses and hopped up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders to try and calm you down. “Y/N, relax. I know them. This is Thor and his brother, Loki.”

Before you could question the legitimacy of his claims that actual Norse gods had appeared in the Compound’s kitchens, the darker haired man - Loki - stepped forward into the dim light and looked you over in a way that made you feel smaller than an ant. Looking between you and your sword, Loki reached forward and tilted your head to the sides, studying your suddenly hateful expression.

Stepping back on the realisation that you were more than willing to impale your sword in his chest, Loki waved away his daggers and crossed his arms. Still never taking his eyes off you, he said, “So you’re her? The Stark child?”

“So what if I am?”

More amused by your prickly attitude than anything else, Loki’s smirk grew as he said, “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of the chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

After all the time that you’d spent reading about Norse mythology, anyone would have thought that you’d be thrilled to have Thor and Loki in the Compound with you. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. From the first moment you’d set eyes on the gods - specifically the younger, dark haired one - you couldn’t bear to be in their presence. No matter how many times Bucky and Tony had tried to tell you that they meant no harm, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that hung over you when they were around.

That was hardly the worst of your worries, though. Since the night of the storm, you and Bucky had barely spoken a word to each other. You had no idea how to talk to him after the kiss and he was not so subtly avoiding you in the name of giving you time and space to figure your feelings out. The problem was, without him by your side providing a calming and steady influence, you were too scared of what might happen if you delved too deeply into your mind to work it all out.

Getting lost in your memories was all too real a possibility and you weren’t ready to face that alone. So, you avoided thinking about it, about anything, for as long as you could. You trained harder in the gym with Steve, practised for longer in the shooting range with Clint. You even spent time in the lab with Bruce and Tony, pouring over thousands of lines of computer codes to correct their rookie mistakes, all the name of avoiding thinking about that kiss and what it could mean for you. The team were worried about you, of course they were, but none were brave enough to say anything.

Nothing helped. You were pushing your body to the limits, physically and mentally, and it was starting to take its toll. You couldn’t sleep. All the progress you had made when it came to eating real food went out the window as you fell back on picking at scraps and relying on the supplements to keep your body going.

The further you slipped, the less control you seemed to have over your powers too. Your concentration drifted more often than not these days, opening your mind to the terrible memories of those around you. Your subconscious latched on to the sharp edges of the teams’ minds, drawing out their worst fears and images until they were all you could see when you closed your eyes. All you could hear were their screams and pleas for everything to just end.

In the dark of the night, you walked aimlessly around the Compound, unable to sleep. FRIDAY tried to talk and keep you company but eventually gave up after you snapped at her over something stupid. No matter how many times you apologised, she hadn’t tried to speak to you again since. You couldn’t blame her. After all, you were terrible company this way.

“You shouldn’t be sneaking around in the dark, Y/N. You never know what terrible monsters you’ll run into.”

“Leave me alone, Loki,” you sighed, not even bothering to stop and turn towards his voice. You couldn’t quite feel him there the way you could normally so assumed that it was just another one of his illusions anyway. He’d made a bit of a habit out of trying to scare you and while it had worked the first few times now it was just annoying.

In no mood to indulge him tonight, you didn’t even summon a dagger to try and protect yourself. You knew that would have caught his interest so simply kept walking without a word. If he meant to harm you, he was welcome to try. You almost wanted him to; even with your skills, he was still a god and would pummel your ass into the ground. You couldn’t help but think such a beating was more than you deserved.

Apparently you hadn’t been clear enough in your desire to be left in peace - if this living hell was what constituted peace nowadays - for Loki appeared as your rounded the corner and fell into step beside you. You felt so small when you were around the god. Not physically small, not exactly, but he was surrounded an air of darkness that just made you want to curl up into a ball and hide. There was something incredibly dangerous about him that you couldn’t pinpoint and your anxiety at being near him was only heightened tenfold in the shadows of the night.

He maintained a respectful distance between you but was close enough to make it clear that he wasn’t just going to let you walk off without him getting the answers he so obviously craved. You weren’t sure whether he was leading you on your walk through the floors of the Compound or if you were in charge but you soon ended up in the gym, wordlessly taking up starting positions on opposite sides of the floor.

Somehow, he understood exactly what you needed and was more than willing to give it to you.

“I would suggest to the death,” Loki said, an infuriating smirk curling the edge of his lips. You hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights but you could see the glint in his eyes nonetheless. A fire burning inside him, the uncontainable power seeped out into the space around him. If you got too close, became too comfortable in the almost pleasant warmth that he radiated, there was every change that it would blow up in your face. “However, I fear you might take that a little too literally.”

“Stop talking and fight, damn it,” you hissed, your eyes fully adjusted to the darkness as you conjured a pair of daggers. Without waiting for a response, you stormed across the mat and didn’t stop until you were right in front of him. He didn’t even try to stop you when you sliced your blade across his chest and you realised a moment too late why that was.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course he would use his illusions against you.

The image vanished with a bright green glow that illuminated the gym just long enough for you to catch the shimmer of Loki’s own daggers coming at you. You were able to guess the path of one blade enough to dodge out the way but in doing so you bent straight back into the other. The sharp point dug into your back, not hard enough to pierce the skin but with enough pressure on your spine to bring you to your knees.

Loki had the cold, hard edge of his dagger against your throat immediately but if he expected you to panic he was in for a surprise. After everything that you’d survived, you could tell when someone was actually willing to cut open your throat and when it was just a bluff. For all his taunting, the god had no intention of actually killing you. That lack of pressure against your neck gave you just enough room to perform a more reckless maneuver without the fear of getting seriously injured in the process.

You swung your leg around, almost dislocating your knee with the ferocity of the movement, and caught his ankle. It was enough of a shock to make him wobble on his feet and that loss of balance provided a short timeframe for you to act. Jumping to your feet, the edge of his blade scraping dangerously up your neck, you brought your elbow to his jaw with the entire force of your body pushing through the attack. At the same time you pressed the tip of your dagger into his chest, right above where his heart was.

“Not bad,” Loki said. Nudging your blade away from his chest, he took a few steps back and spent a long moment just staring at you. It made you feel like a lab experiment gone wrong - or rather reminded you that that was exactly what you were - and you immediately lowered your head in submission.

Less than a second later, you felt his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his. You tried to look away but he gripped your jaw, digging in so hard that it’d probably bruise. Surprisingly tenderly, completely at odds with the strong hold, Loki said, “You should bow to no one. You are not a subordinate. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and wear your strength with pride.”

He pushed you backwards hard enough to make you stumble but not enough to send you flying. Loki circled you, like a vulture around its next meal, stopping only to reach to the wall and flick the light switch behind you. You blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden change, able to adapt far faster than most people would have.

Standing in front of you once again, absentmindedly twirling his daggers at his side. There was no real tension in his body; he wasn’t scared of you at all. This was just light entertainment for him, nothing more. Still, he was deadly serious when he told you, “Don’t hold back this time. Harness the anger inside you. Don’t let it control you.”

Over and over, Loki bested you. As the night progressed, you began to work out the patterns in his fighting but your body, amped up as it was with the implants and drugs flowing around your system, couldn’t keep up. Your movements began to lag and your reflexes were too slow after the best part of a week with no rest. Time and time again, Loki hit you directly, with enough power for it to hurt but not quite enough to do any real damage. Well, nothing permanent anyway.

Still, you continued to push through until the sun began streaming through the windows and you were stumbling where you stood, barely managing to yourself upright. Even though everything was starting to look fuzzy and that annoying ringing in your ears wouldn’t go away, you picked up your dagger from where the god had knocked it to the ground and motioned for Loki to come at you again. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“You truly mean that, don’t you?” Loki asked, eyebrow arching curiously. “You know what I am capable of, yes? You desire to face that?”

“Yes,” you parroted, muscles tensing as adrenaline flooded your system once again. “That’s what exactly I want.”

You sensed the change in his stance before you noticed the physical details. His amused gaze darkened into something far more predatory. Deft fingers tightened around the shining blue handles of his daggers so hard that his knuckles went white. You could feel the danger around him now like a tangible force and your body reacted to the threat accordingly. Your mind hadn’t felt so clear for weeks, focused on one thing alone: beating Loki.

He made the first move. He darted forward, immediately bringing his dagger up to your throat. The harsh sound of metal on metal filled the room as you blocked the attack, bringing your knee into his groin in the same moment.

Loki had anticipated such a move, though, and gracefully sidestepped your attack, leaving you off balance for a brief moment. As you righted yourself, he grabbed you from behind, wrapping his deceptively strong arm around your throat and trapping you against his chest. “Do you yield?”

“No,” you grunted, suddenly bending over and flipping him right over your head. He hit the ground with a mighty thud but it did nothing to slow him. A searing pain shot through your leg where Loki’s fist hit the back of your knee, the only reason it didn’t shatter completely being the fact that it was reinforced by multiple metal plates. That didn’t stop it from being excruciating, though.

Sensing your moment of weakness and pushing his advantage, Loki was on his feet in the blink of an eye, skillfully backing you in to a corner and keeping you on the defensive the entire time. His pattern of attack was completely unpredictable - he used his blade, his fists, his elbows, from the front, side, below - and it was all you could do to simply match the movements, let alone fight back.

When you felt the solid wall against your back, you knew you were done. You were both breathing hard as Loki used his entire body to keep you pinned against the wall, utilising every ounce of godly strength he possessed. There was no way you were getting out of this one. Finally admitting defeat, you dropped your weapons to the ground.

Loki didn’t step away, though. Instead, he looked down at you with an intensity far more terrifying than the predatory expression he’d worn while fighting and asked seriously, “Why do this to yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, the pressure of him leaning against your chest making it difficult to draw a full breath.

“Your behaviour has been erratic this past week. It is destructive and not just for yourself. You are harming those around you too, but you are too caught up avoiding your sorrows to notice.”

“You don’t know me.”

“True,” he acknowledged, tilting his head to the side as he studied you with interest. “But I know a common soul when I see one. I, more than most, am aware of when someone is lying to themselves. Avoiding the truth. What - or who - are you avoiding, Y/N? Is it the brute with the metal arm?”

“Leave Bucky out of this.”

“It is him, then. In part, at least.”

You closed your eyes, gently shaking your head. Your voice small and tired, you sighed, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Loki let out a harsh laugh. The deep sound resonated through your body as he pressed just a little harder, his solid forearm threatening to snap your collarbone if he applied much more force. Towering over you now, he said scarily quietly, “You have no idea. I know what it’s like to feel as if you are unworthy of others’ emotions. It is so much easier to be hated, to have them punish you for your sins. To… Oh, now, that is interesting.”

“What?” you spat, quite literally.

“I don’t know, exactly. I saw something in your eyes, just for a moment, and then it vanished. You don’t want them to be angry either because it shows that they still care. You would truly rather their indifference.”

“Why are you telling me this, Loki? I don’t care.”

“Well, of course. And that’s the problem. Everyone else around you cares so deeply for you and yet you can barely muster a smile for them. Let alone reciprocate other feelings.” Your desperate pleas for him to stop were ignored completely as Loki continued to push. He lifted his free hand to your face and pressed down on your temple, sending a sharp jolt of his magic through your body.

Hundreds of images flashed before your eyes and you quickly realised that Loki was sifting through your memories in search for something. You weren’t sure what but you were damned if you were going to let him find it. Drawing on your own powers, you pushed back against his invasion of your mind and couldn’t help the smug smile on your face when he shuddered at the feeling of being fought.

Loki was too strong for you to keep out for long though, especially since you were on the verge of falling into an exhaustion induced coma. His presence in your mind felt like a blade cutting through your skull, chopping your memories into a million tiny pieces and then mixing them up until nothing made sense. Little did you realise that you were screaming for him to stop until the god was suddenly ripped away from on top of you.

Without his weight to keep you steady on your legs you sank to the ground, eyes clenched tightly shut from the pain. Sounds of a skirmish filled the air but you were too focused on slowing your heart rate to really pay them any attention. That background noise actually helped, paradoxically, to calm you down. You used it to block out the rest of the world until you had forced your body to return to its natural resting state - whatever that meant nowadays.

Finally opening your eyes, you were met by the sight of Bucky in his pyjamas, crouched down in front of you. His dark hair hung messily around his face, his cheek a little pink from where Loki had obviously clocked him one.

The god stood a few feet away, feigning disinterest but really very interested by the two of you. He watched you both closely, noting your every movement and storing it away to torture you with the details later on. Or maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on Bucky and stop him from getting hurt when he mindlessly lashed out at him again. 

“Y/N? Are you alright, doll?” Bucky asked, his voice shaking anxiously at the thought that you might not be. He rested his hands on your shoulders, softly rubbing patterns on your skin with his thumb to try and calm you down. He ran his fingers over the numerous bruises and wounds that now adorned your body, practically trembling with rage at seeing you so beaten up.

Turning his attention to Loki, he hissed, “What did you do to her?”

“Me? Nothing that she did not ask for,” the god replied, rolling his eyes at Bucky’s protectiveness. “Please tell me that you’re going to try and hit me again. I would love that.”

“Bucky, don’t,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and keeping him from doing something he’d regret. You shook your head, the briefest of movements but one he caught nonetheless. “He’s not lying. I asked for all of this.”

“Why would you ask for this, doll? You look like you’ve been ten rounds with the Hulk.”

“I needed to think some things through.”

“And you thought being beaten to a pulp would help?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know, okay?” you groaned, not really sure how to explain it. All you knew was that, somehow, all this - whatever this was that had just happened with Loki - had helped you work through at least a few of your muddled thoughts. It was strange and stupid and reckless, you knew, but it had helped. Bucky would never understand that, though, so you just pushed it all down, probably reversing all the little progress you had made, and asked, “Can we just drop it? We’ve been at this for hours and I need to rest.”

You didn’t wait for his approval, just pushed yourself up on to your feet and headed towards the door. Loki caught your arm as you passed him and whispered, “We’re aren’t done here.”

“Goodnight, Loki,” you said, tearing your arm free. You rubbed your shoulder as you walked away, wincing at the sharp pains from where the god had tugged just a little too hard. It wasn’t fully dislocated but you could tell the metal joint wasn’t exactly where it was meant to be. All the prodding in the world wasn’t going to push it back into place though; you’d need someone else to do that for you and you just weren’t feeling up to facing the doctors’ scowls today.

You left the door to your room on the latch, knowing that Bucky would be coming in to see you eventually. It turned out to be sooner rather than later, perhaps because Bucky was scared of what you might do if you were left alone for too long. He didn’t say anything when he entered, simply sat on the end of your bed and patiently waited for you to put down your book.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“No. Don’t do that. Not when we both know it’s a lie.”

Glancing up from the page you’d been reading for the past ten minutes, you asked, “What else am I supposed to say? It’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?”

“Of course it isn’t, Y/N! I don’t want an apology when you don’t know why you’re even saying sorry!” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his metal one gripping your sheets so tightly that they began to tear. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to relax, he met your gaze and said softly, “I want you to tell me what’s going on, doll. I want you to be honest with me because whatever we’ve been doing this week - avoiding each other, trapped in our own heads - it’s not working for anyone. Please, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy, Bucky.”

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked, the abrupt change of subject jarring you out of your sorrows. Walking round the bed to where you sat curled up on the far corner, Bucky knelt on the mattress by your side and rest a hand on the centre of your back. His metal hand was cool on your arm, gentle but firm. “Close your eyes. This will probably hurt.”

He wasn’t wrong. A sharp burning sensation shot through your body when he pushed your shoulder joint back into place, the harsh sound of metal notches clicking back into place echoed around the room. Bucky didn’t remove his hand from your back once finished, though. Instead, he repositioned himself behind you and began working a few of the tight knots from your shoulders.

Bucky worked efficiently, almost clinically as if scared to touch you properly, his only goal kneading the tension out of your body. You were grateful for the rough edge to his movements. It helped to keep your mind clear. What didn’t help was the way that loose strands of his hair brushed against your shoulders and neck as he leant into the massage, tickling and teasing your body in a not entirely pleasant manner.

Out of the blue, you muttered softly, half hoping he wouldn’t hear, “I can’t be what you want me to be, Bucky.”

His thumbs stilled for a moment on the back of your neck before continuing to dig deep into your muscles, working heavy circles. “I don’t want you to be anything other than yourself, doll.”

“That’s the thing; I still don’t know who that is. Until I do… I can’t be what you deserve. I can’t return your feelings. I am so grateful for what you’ve done, what you continue to do for me, but right now… I’m just not ready for that. How can I open myself up when I’m still missing half the pieces?”

“You can’t. And I wouldn’t want you to, either.” Bucky dropped his hands to his sides and you found, unexpectedly, that you missed the physical connection between you. Even though he was trying his hardest not to touch you or push the boundaries of what you were comfortable with, Bucky couldn’t help himself but stretch his little finger towards yours, linking them together. Sensing your trepidation, he said, “I’m gonna be right here with you all the same whether we’re friends or something more, you know that right?”

Swallowing deeply, you nodded in response. If there was one thing you’d realised, it was that nothing on Earth would keep Bucky from being by your side. He would always protect you, just like he’d promised. Rather than feel secure in that knowledge, though, it only made you feel more guilty.

“I feel like I’m being selfish. Like it’d be using you. It’s not like I don’t enjoy the way you hold me. And when you kissed me… Well… It wasn’t, uh… Unpleasant. In fact, it was highly… um, pleasant.” You turned your face away from him, the heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment. It certainly wasn’t helped by his ridiculous little grin. He could be such a smug jerk sometimes. You even told him as such but it only made him smile more.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed on to keep the conversation on track. “What I mean is that I do like the way you touch me. It’s soft and caring and it’s been so long since anyone touched me without it hurting. But I’m not there when it happens. Not really. My mind, it’s still locked away. Separate from me. That’s what tonight was about. With Loki. Trying to force my mind and body to become one again. I thought that maybe because pain is so familiar… That maybe it would force me back. And it did, for a while. That probably makes no sense. The short is, I’m broken and it’s not fair of me to expect you to wait around for me to be fixed and be there with you when that might never happen.”

Bucky whispered your name, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the back of your head. “You do not need to be fixed. You are perfect exactly as you are. I wanna ask you something and I need you to answer honestly. Okay? Alright. Is it alright if I kiss you again? It’s completely fine if you don’t want me to. We can hug, or not hug, or whatever you want. But I see all these bruises on your skin and I just have an overwhelming urge to kiss them better.”

There was something so ridiculously cheesy about his words that brought an uncontainable smile to your face. Your eyes flickered shut at the wonderful feeling of his warm breath on your neck, his lips hovering close but not close enough. Every inch of your skin tingled from the not-quite contact, your pulse racing at the base of your neck as Bucky nuzzled his nose in your hair and breathed in your scent.

His voice low, Bucky murmured, “Tell me to stop, Y/N, and I will. What do you want, doll?”

You leant back into him, resting against his chest. Letting out a sigh, you whispered, “Don’t stop.” After all, a few more kiss couldn’t hurt, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, I love hearing what you enjoyed about the chapter!


	21. Chapter 21

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

You immediately rolled over, burying your head beneath your pillow and covering that with your quilt for good measure. This was not a conversation you wanted to have and, although you’d been expecting it all day, you were going to do your utmost to avoid having it. From under the relative protection of your bedding, you grumbled, “I’m sleeping. Go away.”

“It’s barely nine pm. Come on. I’m not leaving until we’ve talked about this, sweetie.” The bed dipped beside you when Tony clambered on. He made himself comfortable and just as he promised didn’t move until you finally popped up for a breath of fresh air. When you did, Tony ripped the quilt from your hands and went so far as to throw the pillow on to the other side of the room.

Narrowing your eyes at how utterly unnecessary that was, you tugged softly on the cuffs of Bucky’s hoodie (you hadn’t stolen it; you’d just not given it back after he let you borrow it) and pulled the soft fabric over your knuckles. You curled your legs up into your chest and sat against the headboard, quietly admonishing Tony for stretching out on your fresh bed while still wearing his dusty trainers.

Your voice scarily level, you said, “You’ll have to be more specific about what this is.”

“Barnes told me about Loki.”

“We fought. I lost. So what?”

Tony ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. In the corner of your eye, you saw that his hand was shaking and for a brief moment you felt incredibly guilty for making him so worried about you. You almost pushed it aside and pretended that nothing was wrong but something stopped you.

Enough was enough.

You didn’t want to keep hurting him like this. It wasn’t fair. Tony was trying so hard to reach out to you and every time you made progress you did something stupid like this and fell back ten steps. If you were ever going to move on, to grow and become the kind of person that you knew everyone else deserved to be around, then you had to stop being like this.

A little awkwardly, you shuffled up against him and tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. He was a little tense beneath you, understandably after how you’d been recoiling from every attempt to reach out to you since that hug at the restaurant, but Tony soon snapped out of his own anxiety and self doubt and wrapped his arms around you.

He held you tightly as if he were trying to stop you from drifting away again but not so tight as to make you feel trapped. And he really was very comfortable. You could understand why Pepper was so happy to spend the evenings leaning on him. There was something about Tony that made you feel grounded, like he was a stable rock in a swirling, manic ocean of troubles and worries.

Eventually, you said, “I’m not going to apologise. I’ll admit it was a little stupid but I had to. I needed to find an outlet and nothing else was working. You understand, right?”

“Not really,” Tony admitted. “Help me to, though?”

“After Bucky kissed me, I was feeling a little lost and -”

Tony held his hand in the air, cutting you off mid sentence. “Wait. Back up. Barnes kissed you?”

“The first time was the night that Thor and Loki arrived, yeah. We went out onto the roof during the storm and then he kissed me when we were back inside. Anyway, what I was saying was -”

Interrupting you once again, Tony exclaimed, “What do you mean the first time?”

“Tony, stop it. You don’t need to go all protective mama bear over me. I am more than capable of beating his ass if he hurts me. Which he won’t, by the way. As I was trying to tell you… After Bucky kissed me, I just got a little stuck in my head. I wasn’t sleeping or eating - yes, I promise I had a proper dinner tonight. Ask Sam; he cooked me, Bucky and Steve some weird stew and wouldn’t let me leave until I’d eaten half of it - but I couldn’t clear my head enough to work through what I was feeling. I tried everything I could think of until all that was left was to literally have the sense beaten into me. And full offence to the rest of you, but there is no one on the team capable of holding their own with me in hand to hand.”

“Let me get this straight. What you’re saying is that by letting Rock of Ages beat you to a pulp you had a great emotional epiphany?”

You could hear the disbelief in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to cover it. Unable to stop the snarky comment falling from your lips, you pushed him away and bit back, “You are hardly one to judge, Tony. You deal with your emotions by burying them deep until they start to eat you alive. You lock yourself away with your robot toys and would rather suffer almost to the point of breaking than let anyone else help you. If you think that you are in any place to offer support, when you are as fucked up as you are, then you are seriously mistaken. No good ever comes from being around you.”

Somehow it was worse that he smiled. You wished that he would shout back. Try and defend his behaviour or admonish yours. But he didn’t. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a painful grimace masquerading as a smile and he swung his legs off the bed, heading towards the door without another word.

Panicked at seeing him leaving, you instinctively conjured a dagger and threw it at the door. You’d watched this scene play out a thousand times before in your mind, Tony leaving you even after he promised to stay by your side, and you couldn’t bear to see it in reality. The tip of the blade caught the top of Tony’s ear in the process before then lodging itself directly in the locking mechanism, simply and effectively trapping you both in the room.

“You missed,” Tony muttered. He tugged at the handle of the dagger, the fabric of his shirt straining as he flexed his muscles, but it was firmly wedged in there and no amount of force would get it out. The only way it was going was if you sent it back to the void from which you’d summoned it.

Touching the nick on his ear, Tony stared at the thin layer of blood on his finger and said, “I thought your aim was better.”

“If I meant to hit your neck, I would have done.” You shook your head, burying your face in your hands as you apologised. “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was a horrible thing to say.”

Suddenly back at your side, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulders, Tony brought his head down by yours and whispered, “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s the truth. I deserved that.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, sitting up so quickly that you felt light headed. You wiped the tears from your eyes, neither of you mentioning the way your eyes had gone puffy or the way your nose was all runny. It may have been seen by some as a sign of weakness to cry - HYDRA had told you as such so frequently that you certainly believed it - but in that moment it almost felt like a burst of strength. All the things that had been weighing you down for so long, way longer than Bucky and the kiss and everything with Loki, going all the way back even before HYDRA suddenly seemed a little less heavy on your chest. 

“Tony, you deserve so much more. Everything you love is eventually taken away from you and yet you manage to carry on with a smile. You still feel joy and you don’t let your sorrows stop you from fighting. You are so strong and I wish… I wish I had a fraction of the strength that you do. It’s me that ruins everything. I have always been a burden to you but you put up with me and always tried to help make me better. How do I repay you? By shouting and shitting on all your hard work. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s quite enough of that. Stop apologising. You are not a burden to me. You are… Sweetie, look at me. Y/N. Look at me.” Tony’s eyes blurred with tears when he saw the broken expression on your face. Guilt rippled through him at the way you blindly followed his command, genuinely fearful that he could - that he would - hurt you if you didn’t do as he asked. You were looking at him but you weren’t really seeing him.

It was in that moment that Tony truly understood.

You put on a show for them all, playing everyone to make them think that you were okay. You’d made them all believe that in the long months since you’d been rescued from HYDRA things had changed. Improved. The team, himself included, had wanted to see you get better so desperately that it made fooling them all the easier. Just as you had been taught by your handlers, you’d latched on to the weakness around you - the hopes and fears of the team - and twisted them into such perfect lies that you’d almost starting believing them yourself.

But then Bucky had kissed you and the illusions had shattered. No matter how you had tried, and the heavens knew you had tried hard, you couldn’t get the sharp, jagged edges to realign. The perfectly imperfect recovery story that you’d been telling began to fall apart, the ending looking as bleak as ever. There was no escaping HYDRA and you’d been a fool to think you were strong enough to succeed.

Suddenly your reasons for fighting with Loki made more sense. Releasing your tightly held resistance and accepting the beating - beatings - was the only way that you had to feel in control. You knew how to cope with the physical pain. You’d had years of practise. With your entire world cracking irreparably around you, you’d only done what felt natural. You’d fallen back on the one familiar constant you knew to ground you in the hope that it would do more good than bad.

Tony understood. After all, he had done a similar thing himself. In his darkest times, he always fell back on alcohol. He would lock himself away and drink until everything was numb. It was so much easier then to evaluate the destruction he was leaving in his wake when he couldn’t feel his heart breaking.

No amount of alcohol would numb the pain he felt now, though.

“Oh, sweetie I’m sorry. Come here, kiddo,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and trying not to burst into tears when you just sagged against his chest. Tony held you like that for hours, well in to the night, comforting you every time another terrible wave of fresh anger, hatred and fear rolled through you. He wrapped you in a thick blanket when you started to shake, never once complaining about the way you dug your nails in to his skin or the cold, damp tear patches on his shirt.

Only when you had no more tears to cry did you finally pull away. Tony remained almost glued to your side as he walked you to the medical wing, glaring daggers at the doctors who even dared open their mouths at being called in to care for you at 4am. He never let go of your hand as they checked you over for broken bones or any major internal damage (save for a few fractured ribs and one of the plates in your knee being jarred out of place, you were nominally fine).

After a quick round of injections to dull the pain, Tony guided you back towards your room to put you to bed. He surprised you by kicking off his shoes and clambering in to the bed with you, gesturing for you to curl up against his side. You then surprised him back in turn by joining him without an argument, pulling the covers up to your shoulders and closing your eyes.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you whispered when he asked FRIDAY to turn out the lights and block out the rising sun in the window so you could rest.

“Nothing important.”

“I’m pretty sure that the United Nations would argue that they are a little important.”

You didn’t need to be able to see to know that he was frowning. Sounding a little too impressed, Tony asked, “How did you know about that? It’s a top level security meeting, not in any diaries.”

“FRIDAY’s systems aren’t as secure as you think.”

Expecting him to admonish you for poking around his private, apparently not so secret servers, you were shocked when Tony placed a kiss on the top of your head and asked if you’d help him fix up the gaps in the grid some time. You just nodded, not really sure what else to say.

“Get some sleep, kiddo,” Tony said softly. “I love you.”

An hour must have passed before you spoke again. You barely whispered the words, convinced by Tony’s soft, gentle breathing that he was fast asleep. The last thing you wanted to do was to wake him from his peaceful slumber - a rare thing indeed, for him - but after tonight you needed to speak the words and knew you could never say them to his face when he was awake. “I love you, too, Tony.”

***

A strange sense of normalcy fell over the Compound in the days that followed.

You saw neither head nor hair of Loki and Thor and began to wonder whether they had gone back to Asgard without anyone bothering to tell you. In a way, you were glad for it as it avoided the awkwardness that would have undoubtedly come following your fight with Loki. At the same time, though, you couldn’t help but wonder why they’d visited for such a brief time and then left without a word.

Those thoughts were pushed aside by you returning to a regular routine. You ate breakfast with Tony and Bruce in the lab, although calling it breakfast may have been a stretch sometimes. Most of the time, it was just a large cup of coffee and occasionally a piece of toast or some stale pastries if there were any lying around from the night before.

Lunch was spent with Bucky, curled up on the sofa and watching crappy TV shows. You enjoyed your time together, relaxing in to his soft touches and the warmth of his strong body wrapped around yours. Sometimes, when you were smiling or laughing at the TV, he would lean down and kiss you on the cheek. That almost always lead to more kisses, dotted down your jaw, over your neck and finally your lips.

Bucky never pushed it further than those light, butterfly kisses though. You knew he wanted to, and a lot of the time you knew you wouldn’t have protested, but he refused to go further if you weren’t ready to be there with him. It put a little strain on your time together, knowing that he wished for something you couldn’t give, but you both ignored the tension for the time being.

Afternoons were spent training with various members of the team and then finally you would eat dinner with whoever claimed your attention first. You were even starting to enjoy some of the food that you were eating, one particular favourite being a strange concoction that Peter had made for you and Ned: hotdogs wrapped in bacon and instant noodles. You weren’t sure why it worked but Peter told you that it was the best kind of student dinner and you couldn’t argue with that.

All in all, things appeared to be looking up.

You even willingly sat down with Sam to finally take him up on his offer to talk. They were pretty informal chats, mostly held while walking aimlessly around the Compound. He had realised almost immediately that you found it easier to open up to him while moving rather than being stuck on a chair. Understandable, he told you. It was scary to open up and having the option to run away when it got too heavy helped a lot of people.

Sam suggested one day coming along to one of his sessions with the Veterans Association but left it completely open ended so you didn’t have to make a choice either way. He said that it might help to talk to other people in a related position (you noted he didn’t say similar, because no one had had a similar experience to you) to hear how they deal with their pain and guilt - both of the things that they did during war but also for surviving when so many other people died and coming back to those who still somehow loved them when they’d done such awful things.

The thing you appreciated most about Sam was how he never pushed you to say anything. He was incredibly perceptive about your mood and seemed to be able to swing the conversation in whatever direction he thought would help you best. Whether that meant remembering one of your more horrific missions for HYDRA or simply just sharing a cup of tea he always managed to get you talking or thinking in a way that didn’t end with you wanting to stab something (or someone, specifically yourself).

You often walked away from your frank conversations with Sam feeling a mess of emotions but, as the day passed and you had time to ruminate over your shared words, you slowly started to feel more positive about the possibilities. It would take time - a long time - but you were glad you had decided to finally seek him out for help.

Things really were looking up. And they continued to go that way until a call came in from the UN asking - demanding - the Avengers help neutralise a major threat in the East. They gave no further details save for a location and the order that any and all available members of the team were to attend the “disturbance”.

While everyone else ran around preparing and gathering gear, Tony pulled you aside and asked, “Are you gonna be okay here alone while we deal with this?”

“I am an adult, Tony. I can look after myself.”

“I know that, sweetie. I’m just… The last time I left you alone to deal with an emergency… I can’t lose you like that again.”

Understanding filled your features and you pulled Tony into a hug. “I’ll be okay. The Compound is one of the safest places on Earth, right? And I’m not the same kid I was back then.”

“Anyway, she won’t be alone,” a familiar voice said from across the room. You broke apart from Tony to see Loki lounging against the doorframe, watching you closely.

“No way,” Tony said, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look more dangerous. It was hardly a necessary action; the look in his eyes was enough to send any sane man running. Of course, Loki was neither sane nor a man… “I told you to stay away from Y/N and I am not leaving her here with you. Not after what you did to her.”

While Tony may have come to terms with why you went to Loki, almost understanding the unhealthy coping mechanism, that didn’t mean he forgave the god for his part in it all. It may have been unfair but every time Tony looked at the fading cuts and bruises on your skin he couldn’t help but feel a deep rooted anger towards Loki.

He had pulled the trickster aside and told him in no uncertain terms to stay away from you, describing in great detail what would happen if he so much as looked at you again. Loki had taken the warning to heart - hence why he’d ghosted you this past week - not because he feared the consequences but merely because it suited him to do so. At least that’s what he told himself. It had certainly been made easier by Thor hanging around him like a shadow, pinning him down with Mjolnir every time someone even mentioned your name.

But now, his brother was preparing to leave with the rest of the team and Loki was free to move as he wished. Crossing the room, smirking at the way Tony stepped forward to get between you and the god, Loki said, “I’ve told you, Stark, it was nothing more than what she asked.”

Before Tony could say something he’d regret, or more likely provoke the god into throwing him across the lab, you pushed past him and stood opposite him, your back to Loki, and said, “Don’t, Tony. I told you. I will be fine. Anyway, it will be… nice to have company, I suppose. And, if it makes you feel better, I promise not to fight him.”

Behind you, Loki let out a disappointed sigh. He held his hands defensively in the air when you spun around to scowl at him, although you knew that his smirk returned the moment you turned away.

Tony looked between you before finally acknowledging he had no choice - especially since the jets were due to leave any minute now. He pulled you into another hug and whispered, “If he does anything to hurt you, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, stab him. We can hide the body in one of the ponds and no one will be the wiser. Got it? And don’t worry about blood on the furniture. We’ve got industrial strength cleaner than can get stains out of anything.”

“Be safe, Tony,” you replied, hiding your smile in the crook of his neck. “And tell Bucky…”

Shaking his head, Tony pushed you away gently and said lightly, “Nope. Nu-uh. I am not passing on a confession of love. You wanna say that, you gotta do it yourself. And you better run because FRIDAY says they’re almost ready to go.”

As fast as you could, you ran through the Compound, skidding around corners and almost crashing through the windows on multiple occasions. You swore when you tripped over a pair of Clint’s randomly discarded boots but caught yourself and rushed on.

Barely any change in your breathing despite the intense burst of exertion, you came to a halt in the loading bay and searching frantically for Bucky. You couldn’t see him through the busy mass of people all working on equipping the team for the mission so clambered up on the wing of the nearest jet for a bird’s eye view.

There. You could see the glint of his metal arm, shining in the harsh white light. Ignoring the shouts of the men in charge of maintaining the aircraft, you clambered over the body of the jet with tremendous grace before swinging down from the wing and landing a few feet from where Bucky now stood. You opened your mouth to speak but the words didn’t come. You had no idea what to say to him.

At that moment, he turned around and laid eyes on you, his stiff frame instantly softening. Putting down the gun in his hand, waving at one of the floor staff to take it and pack it in the jet, Bucky closed the small gap between you. “Hey, doll. What you doing here? You know you can’t come with us.”

“God, no. I don’t want to do that,” you said, the thought of facing another battlefield enough to make you want to run and hide. “I just… uh, I wanted to see you before you left.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N? You look a little… I don’t know…”

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you repeated, genuinely smiling when you realised that for the first time in who-knows-when that it was actually the truth. The sounds of the jets powering up was almost enough to jolt you out of this state but not quite. All that noise, the harsh sounds of metal grating on metal, the thundering engines and the shouting of the crew, died away to nothing as you leant forward and wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck. You pulled him closer, a wave of warmth flooding your body when his hands instinctively landed on your hips.

Lips almost touching, his stubble tickling your skin, his dark hair falling around you and blocking out the rest of the world, you stroked his neck with your thumb, savouring the way his breathing became shallower with every minute touch. You breathed his name when you felt his metal fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards just enough to close the gap between you.

Every kiss you had shared with him paled in comparison to this. It was hot and passionate and neither of you held back. Bucky hooked his arm around you and hoisted you on to a nearby crate as if you weighed nothing, smirking against your lips when you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

Bucky ran his hands along your thighs, strong and in control but gentle as ever. One hand slipped beneath your hoodie, coming to rest on your hip. His fingers dug into your skin, kissing you harder, almost bruisingly so. You laced your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him moan your name, murmuring it over and over like a prayer.

The way your fingers danced across his skin was driving Bucky crazy and he wished, god knows how he wished, that you would touch every inch of him in the same way. It made him feel so alive until he was overflowing with emotion, a feeling he knew you shared.

Breaking the kiss was agonising for you both but the others were calling his name and they could wait no longer. Bucky couldn’t quite convince himself to let you go though, one hand still on your hip and the other tucked firmly beneath your thigh as he whispered in to your neck, “I’ve gotta go, darling.”

“Please be safe,” you replied, gasping sharply when he nipped your neck with his teeth. The smug bastard enjoyed the whimper you made so much that he did it again just to hear that delicious sound fall from your lips.

Wishing that you had more time, you put your hands on his shoulders and firmly pushed him away, although you did keep your legs curled around him to stop him going to far. Cupping his face, you brushed your lips against his for a final time and said, “I mean it, Bucky. You’d better come back to me.”

“Of course I’ll come back, doll,” he said, the tremble of his fingers against your skin giving away his true fears. Bucky prided himself on never lying to anyone, especially not you, but he was genuinely concerned that this time, if the threat was actually as terrible as the UN seemed to fear, he may end up breaking his promise to return. Kissing the tip of your nose, he breathed, “I love you, Y/N.”

You fumbled for the right words, unable to pull any adequate response together. Instead, you pulled the hairband - his hairband - from around your wrist and handed it to him. Bucky tried to refuse but you were adamant. You slipped in over his glove and playfully pinged it against his skin. “That’s my favourite. It means a lot to me and has gotten me through a lot of tough times. Look after it for me. If you break it…”

“I won’t let anything happen to it, doll. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You stayed exactly where you were on the crate as you watched the jets take off and only left the hanger after everyone had gone. Thankfully, if it can be called as much, you didn’t have long to wallow in your thoughts for Loki appeared by your side and grabbed you by the arm. You ripped yourself free of his grip and summoned a dagger for good measure. Voice hard, you asked, “What do you want, Loki?”

“We never finished our conversation in the gym. You and I have quite a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a short flashback in the middle of the chapter which includes violence, mental and physical abuse, forced injections with unknown chemicals and experimentation. If that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read it.

Never had a cup of tea felt so ominous.

Loki had invited you to join him in the kitchen, it having somehow been designated the most neutral place in the Compound and perfect for difficult conversations. You made yourself some tea to distract yourself from the heavy anticipation of what was to come, the sweet liquid in your cup tasting bitter in your mouth while Loki made himself something to eat. Apparently, his desire to confront you about your past wasn’t quite strong enough to forgo satisfying his appetite. For his part, he did offer to make something for you too but your stomach was already doing more flips than a billion dollar rollercoaster so you politely refused.

All too soon, he took a seat opposite you and for the first time took in your posture. Your shoulders were stiff, square and held back. Your jaw was set, clenched tightly as your teeth ground against one another. You watched him through a hard gaze, narrowing your eyes every time he so much as twitched.

It was quite the convincing projection of strength but he saw right through it.

You’d picked at the skin around your fingernails so hard that a few had started to bleed and beneath the counter top he knew that you were restlessly fidgeting with your legs, unable to sit still. In other circumstances, if you were someone else, Loki may have used this knowledge to his advantage but he couldn’t bring himself to act that way with you. Perhaps because he knew how what he was going to say would hurt you. Perhaps because he simply didn’t want to be beaten by Tony or his brother for upsetting you.

Every moment of silence that stretched between you made your heart beat harder in your chest. Your anxiety was slowly raising its head, certainly not helped by the way that your body was responding to what it was now classifying as a major threat. Both natural and unnatural chemicals were swarming your system, triggering a fight or flight response that was all but impossible to ignore.

“I am not a threat to you, Y/N,” Loki said, watching your fear building out the corner of his eye as he picked at the vegetables on his plate.

“You make that difficult to believe. If you have something to tell me, stop with this ridiculous charade and tell me. You prove nothing by holding it over me like a shadow.”

Loki scoffed, finishing up his meal and pushing the plate aside. He rested his elbows on the edge of the kitchen counter and said, “Your bravery in adversity is admirable. You truly earn the name Stark.”

“You called me that before. When you first arrived, you called me a child of Stark. How did you know that? How did you know of me at all?” No matter how you tried, you couldn’t work out how Loki might have known about your history and relationship with Tony. Thor hadn’t been around before you were taken by HYDRA and certainly not in the time that you’d been back at the Compound. Since Thor was the only link between Earth and Asgard that you could think of, and he clearly hadn’t brought your name back with him, how had Loki heard of you?

The god’s lips twitched up in the corner, his trademark smirk showing itself as if he had somehow heard your private thoughts. “Let me ask you a question instead: How did HYDRA know of you? I assume that Tony kept your powers and skills within a very small circle, so how did they hear your name?”

“That has nothing to do with what we are talking about,” you said, every single defence rising at the mere name of HYDRA. There was something incredibly wrong about hearing the name fall so casually from Loki’s lips, laced with the insinuation that he knew far more about your captivity there than he had previously let on. “Don’t change the subject to avoid answering my question.”

“Oh but I am not changing the subject at all. The two points are very much connected.” Sensing that you were in no mood to play his games, and not quite stupid or arrogant enough to terrorise you further, Loki gave in and explained, “I heard about you the same way that they did. It is just quite unfortunate that they found you first.”

“You were looking for me? Six years ago?”

“Long before than that, my dear. You don’t think that HYDRA decided to seek you out and then found you over night, surely? No. Both they and I had been searching for traces of you for many years beforehand.”

Your pressed your lips together as you mulled over his words, your forehead furrowed in deep thought. Taking a long sip of your tea, you asked simply, “Why?”

“Your parents were mutants,” Loki said, as if that answered your question when in fact it only raised more.

The statement had been so completely left field that you nearly spat out your drink. You set your tea cup on the table to stop from spilling any more as you coughed. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you said quite adamantly, “No, they weren’t.

“Yes, they were,” he insisted. Loki’s patience was wearing a little thin but he knew how hard it was to learn something as big and life changing at this so he held his annoyance in check. “They volunteered to be a part of secret trials run by your pathetic government. They were attempting to harness the powers of those stronger than them and push them onto new soldiers. The mutations didn’t activate, the tests failed and the subjects were allowed to return to their everyday lives of obscurity. However, when they had you, the mutations were successfully passed on in your DNA. How did you not know this?”

“How do you?”

Loki shrugged, reaching across the counter and stealing your tea. He wrapped his hands around the cup and it momentarily glowed green as he used his magic to heat it up again. “Asgardians come to Midgard now and again for various reasons. Some come to vacation in the backwards wilderness of your planet. Others, like myself, keep an eye out for anything that may be of use one day. I happened to stumble across this information on one such trip.”

Annoyed that the god had helped himself to your tea, you rose from your chair and turned your back to Loki while you made yourself a new cup. It also helped hide the pain and confusion on your face, emotions you weren’t keen to publicise. You couldn’t remember much about your parents at all, not after everything, but this revelation still affected you deeply. Waiting on the kettle, you asked, “Stumble how, exactly?”

“I didn’t leave any bodies, if that is what concerns you. “

“Why tell me this?”

“Why not? It should hardly be a secret. It’s inconsequential, either way. All that really matters are your powers and what you are capable of.”

Your shoulder slumped. Distracting yourself by pouring far more sugar in to your tea than was healthy, you asked softly, “You looked for me because you wanted me to become a weapon too?”

“It had crossed my mind,” Loki said honestly, suddenly appearing by your side. He poured himself another cup of tea and leant against the counter, arms folded far too casually over his chest. “But that is not why I sought you out. It is prudent to have allies across the realms and you have enough strength to stand out against the rest of Humanity. I merely wished to take you as an ally should the time ever come when I needed friends on Earth.

“In the same way that the pathetic mage, Strange, keeps an eye out for the dangers to your realm - paranoid as he is - I prefer to face potential allies rather than treat them as foes. I had hoped that you and I could be such. It was a little disheartening when HYDRA got you before me but I must say that you handled the situation rather well, considering.”

“Considering what? That I was forced to kill hundreds of people in their name?” you yelled, slamming your mug down so hard on the counter that it shattered in two. The boiling liquid burned your skin but you barely felt it. Your vision tinged red with anger, you hissed, “They took me from my family and turned me into a monster! I did what I had to in order to survive and I hate myself for everything I did for them.”

“Yours is not a unique experience, Y/N,” Loki said, catching your wrist as you turned to leave. His hard gaze unwavering, the god dropped your hand and said, “Strong people are taken all the time and warped into shadows of their former selves. It is not something of which you alone have had the privilege. It is terrible and unfair but we do our best to deal with the aftermath of our actions.”

Rubbing the marks on your wrist from where he had dug his fingers into your flesh, you were surprised by the warm tingling sensation which seemed to spreading up your arm and across your hand. Your veins were glowing the same green as his seidr but instead of feeling violated you simply felt a little more peaceful. It was a lie, of course, a false sense of security created by Loki’s magic but in light of today’s revelations you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“How do we deal with it?” you asked.

“We take back ownership of all the powers we used in their name.”

“I can already use my powers.”

“But you have not mastered them. Let me teach you how.” Loki could practically hear your internal debate. It was one he had had many times with himself, still had with himself on the darker days. He understood the strain of having to accept your own actions and find a way to move on. After all, he had done just that. Only, he had been forced to do it alone and didn’t want the same hardship to fall on you. Gently but firmly, he said, “You need to stop being scared of what they did, Y/N. Find a way to use your powers for yourself.”

“You mean use my powers to help other people?”

“Well, that is tremendously droll. Humans, so focused on helping others,” Loki scoffed. “But if you so desired, then of course you can use them to help people work through their traumatic memories but I was referring to more self servicing practises first. You need to use your gifts to pull back your own memories, deal with the terrors and move on. I can help you.”

“Why?”

“We’re allies, are we not?”

“I never agreed to that…”

“Well, as a show of my goodwill, allow me to show you how it is done. Please,” Loki said, stretching out his hand in the hope that you would accept. You almost said no but when he breathlessly uttered the plea at the end of his request you changed your mind. It had to be important to him for the god to beg so, this once, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You drained your cup of tea and nodded, allowing him to lead you over to the nearest sofa. He instructed you to make yourself comfy so you drew your legs up beneath you and curled into the corner against the cushions. Arms wrapped around your waist, you only realised that you were making yourself as small as possible when Loki pointed it out.

“This won’t do. You’re supposed to be embracing the power, not hiding from it. Here, this way,” he said, tugging you up in one easy movement. He then deposited you on the floor in the centre of the space, after kicking the glass coffee table aside, without your feet ever touching the ground.

He dropped down opposite you, crossing his legs and resting his hands loosely in his lap. “Like this,” Loki instructed, moving your body into position when you took too long. He lightly touched your chin and you lifted it, expecting that that was his intention. However, instead, he angled it down and murmured softly, “Let your body go limp. I understand it won’t be easy for you, soldier, but you must relax.”

Closing your eyes, you whispered, “Please, don’t call me that.”

“Why ever not? It is merely a title. You are a brave warrior, are you not?” Loki asked as he placed his hands over yours. You felt a warm tingle over your skin and when you opened your eyes you saw his emerald seidr wrapping itself around your wrists like rope. Catching the flash of panic in your expression, Loki said gently, “I know it feels uncomfortable but try not to struggle against the bonds. They are for your own protection.”

“From what?”

“Yourself, my dear. Now, please, take a deep breath and let your mind drift.” Loki brought his fingers to your temples, applying a gentle pressure on your skin. He slowed his breathing and encouraged you to match his breaths, which was easier said than done with your panic levels spiking. This hadn’t seemed safe to begin with but now that Loki had strapped you down you were more convinced than ever that this was a bad idea.

No matter how hard you tried to empty your mind, you couldn’t find a moment of peace. Every thought you banished was replaced by one twice as terrible until you were almost drowning under their weight.

Before you slipped into the darkness, though, you felt Loki move his grip. He cupped your face and held you so you had no choice but to look into his green eyes. Far more gently than you had ever expected possible from him, seeing how ruthless he had been in the training room, the god said, “You are trying too hard. I didn’t tell you to rid your mind of thoughts, only to let it wander. Stop fighting yourself and just let go. It is not about controlling the madness. You must allow yourself to get swept away. Fighting the tide will never end well but if you swim with it you will find safety all the sooner. Do you understand?”

You nodded stiffly, trying to relax. Only when Loki started guiding you through it, his voice laced in a cool magic, could you truly begin to feel yourself drifting. You hung on his every word, focusing on the rise and fall of his tone as it lead you into the darkness. When you felt as if you were floating in the emptiness of your mind, surrounded by warm swirling colours and a feeling of almost contentness, a sudden jolt of green transported you deeper into your mind, straight into one of your worst memories.

You were in one of HYDRA’s training rooms, the unconscious body of a fellow Soldier at your feet. You had been training with the blonde woman for hours, the both of you constantly pushing your body to the limit. On multiple occasions, the lead scientists had stopped your fights to inject you with a new substance before sending you back into the ring and observing the results of their latest serums. With so many chemicals swirling around your system, it was a miracle that you were still able to stand.

But you did. And you fought far better than the other Soldier. They had noted before that you were one of, if not the, best at hand to hand combat but with these latest serums you had been unstoppable. Amazed by the effects, they’d injected the other woman but it had not been such a positive result. She had barely lasted an hour before collapsing at your feet. They would later extract more of your blood to run tests on, trying to determine why you were able to survive such a mixture when others could not.

They actually had to drag you away from her to stop you from tearing out her throat. Those hadn’t been your orders but something in the serum had made it seem the only course of action. It had amped your body’s aggression levels until you were almost feral and it took six armed guards to hold you down while they carried the female Soldier away to the infirmary. You stared at her unconscious body on the stretcher and thought one single thought: weak.

Naturally, you were punished for not following orders, even though it hadn’t been any conscious choice of your own. However, it seemed that the scientists were not content with eliminating only your conscious decisions, but also those of your lower, more base conscience too. Unfortunately for you, beating and punishing you into submission had proved a very successful tactic in that area.

The implants on your cortical nerves kicked in when your natural vision became too blurry after a major, and unnecessarily ferocious, blow to your skull from one of the guards. The world looked different, sharper but with fewer details. Only the outlines of those around you remained, all unimportant data - any identifying information or pitiful expressions when your victims pleaded for their miserable lives - was removed. If you’d have had the luxury of such thoughts, you would have said you preferred it this way. It made it easier to forget that these were real people, with real lives outside the programme or the mission.

Once thoroughly beaten, you were pulled to your feet and ordered to await further instructions. You weren’t sure how long you stood in the centre of that room, staring at the blank wall ahead. It could have been minutes. It could have been days. Eventually, though, the scientists and your handlers returned with another man in tow.

You couldn’t see his face, the optical implants still overriding your natural vision, but there was something familiar about his build and the way he walked. You didn’t dwell on that, though. There were hundreds of people that worked in the base and if the handlers weren’t going to introduce him then his identity wasn’t important.

“Beginning experiment four hundred and seventy two,” a lowly lab technician stated for the video record, injecting your arm with another new concoction and then carefully but very quickly attaching a few sensors to the back of your neck, your wrists and back. He stepped away into the safety of the observation area immediately after. He was one of the newer scientists to the team, running his own set of experiments outside the “important” ones that drifted down from higher levels, but he was smart enough to realise that sticking around when you were in this kind of state was exceptionally dangerous, to put it lightly.

You waited for instructions but none came. Instead, the other man - the one whom you’d almost recognised - jumped at you. His attack caught you off guard enough that he was able to grab you by the neck and slam you down on the ground, cracking your skull on the hard floor. The impact knocked one of your optical implants out of line and the circuit failed instantly.

It took your brain less than ten seconds to adapt to the change, to readjust to regular human vision, but in that time your opponent was able to knock you over and pin you to the ground. He held your wrists above your head with one hand, his skin the metal ice cold against your flesh, holding you down in a way that stopped you from summoning any weapons. With his other hand, he held a knife to your throat, pressing down enough to draw blood but not enough to permanently injure.

You tried to take advantage of that weakness but he had you trapped too well. Even with all the chemicals swirling around inside you, you couldn’t get him to budge. No amount of thrashing would be able to break you free of his impossible grip so you just sunk in to the ground and waited for the opportunity to escape to present itself.

Much to your surprise, the man brought his face down to yours and whispered a name in your ear. He waited for you to react, as if it were meant to mean something. But it did not. You had no idea who it belonged to. It was irrelevant. When the man realised that you truly didn’t recognise the name, his resolve faltered just enough to show the cracks in his facade. His gaze softened and he looked at you with something you could not describe.

He knew you. That much was clear. Obviously you had some kind of history together but you drew a blank. You could not place his face or understand why you might have known him. It wasn’t important either way, though. If it was not prudent to the investigation then it was irrelevant. Emotional entanglement was irrelevant. The desire to know the truth about this man was not a luxury you could afford to have.

The blade against your throat slipped from your opponents grip as he stared into you blank expression and the handle clattered against the concrete floor. Far too gently for a Soldier, he touched your cheek and breathed the words, “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Y/N.”

Before you could reply, you heard a familiar voice shout from nearby, “You fool! Get him out of here! You know that we are under orders to never let them interact!”

Your opponent was pulled off of you by the guards and dragged away. He offered no resistance, his head hung curiously low in defeat, even though he had won the battle. The young scientist in charge of that particular piece of research was never seen again in the base; his work was destroyed, deemed too dangerous for the Soldier programme, and his name never uttered again.

Not a moment too soon, the memories faded to black and you regained an awareness of the world around you. Loki caught you in his arms as you collapsed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He pulled you against his chest and squeezed your arms tightly. He held you that way until you made a move yourself to pull away. He instantly leant back to let you but ensured to keep some kind of physical contact with you - be it merely a hand on your knee - to anchor you to this reality.

“Tell me how you feel,” he said, offering you a glass of water. He didn’t push when you refused, simply left it on the floor by your side.

“I’m so cold,” you whispered, a sob catching in your throat when Loki immediately used his magic to conjure up a blanket for you. He wrapped it around your shoulders and you felt the effects of it instantly. It was like a warm wave of tiny fireworks rolling through your body, his magic seeping in to your cells and attempting to remove the deep set tension which held them stiff.

Loki watched you carefully, understanding exactly how you were feeling. He’d been there with you, in your memories. He’d felt the emptiness in your mind, experienced firsthand what HYDRA had really done to you. He was never one to readily show his emotions but Loki could not hold back the tears that trickled down his cheeks, mourning everything that had been taken from you.

You sat in silence for a long time, staring blankly out the window. You weren’t thinking. You certainly weren’t feeling. You were as empty as you had been back then, wiped clean of any independent trait, any thought or emotion that proved you were more than a mindless killing machine.

Without any other reason than a deep rooted need to not feel so alone, you crawled over to Loki and curled up by his side. You rested your head on his thigh and closed your eyes, almost wishing that you could sleep and just be free of these awful feelings for a few hours. Even though sleep may have been a distant dream, feeling Loki’s solid form beneath you helped keep your mind from wandering too far.

He didn’t seem to mind your sudden proximity, fully understanding what you needed after having been through something similar himself. Instead of pushing you to voice what was, or what was not, on your mind, Loki simply conjured a book and read to you. It was a language you did not understand but that somehow made it easier to listen to. 

Every time you tensed up, as the cold reminders of emptiness and regret crawled up your spine, Loki would re-adjust the blanket over your body and whisper some soft encouragement, reminding you that you were truly safe. He would protect you from your demons. It was a tall promise indeed but you believed him.

As truly terrible as the memory had been, each minute that passed seemed like a victory to be celebrated. The images played over and over in your mind but, under Loki’s guidance, you didn’t try to block them out. You forced yourself to re-live more each time until they no longer held a dark power over you. Even the chill of seeing your handlers faces began to wear off.

“You are no longer that person, Y/N,” Loki said, cutting of his own story out of the blue. You weren’t sure what had convinced him that you were ready to talk again but his intuition proved to be correct. You didn’t resist when he sat you up and even drank the water he gave you, not because he offered but because you actually wanted to.

“I was barely a person at all then. I did terrible things. Thousands of people are dead because of me. I killed them.”

“Indeed you did. There is no use in denying it. Instead, you must realise that you were merely following a chain of command. Surviving this life is not an easy task, Y/N. We are forever fending off the disasters that the universe throws at us. Sometimes the only way to get through the worst is to embrace the darkness until we finally find a light to show us the path out of the shadows.”

“What was your light?”

Loki hesitated and for a moment you feared that you had asked too personal a question. However as you moved to retract the query, Loki answered honestly, “My brother. Thor has many faults and his unwavering belief in me is by far his biggest. However, I often find myself resisting the darker paths due to the knowledge that that is what my brother - and my mother, if she were still around - would want me to do. Their unconditional love, of which I know I am unworthy, keeps me strong enough to fight my demons.”

“Do you not worry about disappointing them?”

The god let out a hearty laugh and you actually believed that he found your question funny. Rolling his eyes, Loki said, “After everything else I have done? There is little else I could do to disappoint them now. Thor may despair over my actions but he knows that my tricks and games are without malice.”

“I am sure that Thor is proud of the fact you are trying to walk a higher path.”

You were sure that you caught Loki’s cheeks going red, embarrassed by the warm feelings in his chest caused by the thought of Thor finally thinking him a worthy brother. Driving the conversation away from himself, Loki said, “Yes, well. Enough about me. Let us return to our previous point. You are more than what HYDRA made you, Y/N. You should be proud of the progress you have made. Instead of focusing on what is yet to be fixed, look at what you have achieved. You have embraced the life that they tried to take from you and have welcomed other people into your heart. That in itself is quite the breakthrough.”

“It does not feel like it, sometimes.”

“It is the truth. Think of it this way: When you climb a mountain, you rarely feel as if you are making progress. It seems as though there are always more steps ahead. However, every step gets you take towards your goal brings you closer and when you finally reach the top you can look down and finally see just how far you’ve come. Recovering from trauma is never an easy road, Y/N, but you are making tremendous progress.”

“Thank you, Loki. For everything you’ve done today. Maybe… Since we’re allies and all… Perhaps we could do this again and you could help me with powers. If you want.”

“On one condition.” Loki searched your face for any sign of agreement but instead only found a rising nervousness. Assuring you that it was nothing to be worried about, he explained, “I am quite fascinated by your control of your daggers. You see, while I can mimic the trick, that is all it is. A trick. My weapons are as solid as you or I and are locked away in a pocket dimension. However, from what I’ve seen and read, you are able to conjure them from nothing. And in an impressive range of sizes too. I would be very interested to learn more about your skills.”

“So, a trade? Your knowledge for mine?”

Loki nodded and held out his hand expectantly. He knew you’d accept the moment you’d redefined your arrangement as a trade. After all, it was so much easier to accept help when you thought you were paying for it. He understood. It made you feel less indebted to him and he certainly wouldn’t argue if it meant he also got what he desired.

“When do you want to start?” you asked, flicking your wrist to summon a smaller blade for him to study.

“Not today, my dear,” Loki said, smiling to himself as he ran his fingers over the intricate design on the handle. It truly was impressive. “You are exhausted and need to rest. We can do this another time. Manipulating memory takes it toll on the body and, while you were merely a passenger today, it would be unwise to put your body through anything else. So, I shall make us some tea and you can tell me all about Sergeant Barnes.”

“I never pegged you for a lover of gossip,” you called, stretching your legs out across the sofa and sinking into the plush cushions. “I thought, as a prince, it would be below you.”

“Gossip is merely a combination of secrets and lies. As a god of both, I am naturally very interested in hearing it,” Loki said, perching himself on the arm of the sofa and handing you your mug. He waited with glee to hear your all the details of your relationship with Bucky. However, before you had the chance to spill anything of interest, the television screen on the wall flickered on.

The Stark Industries logo in the centre of an otherwise black screen, FRIDAY said, “Sorry to interrupt, miss, but we’ve got a message incoming from one of the jets.”

“Patch it through, FRIDAY.” Expecting to see Tony, you were surprised when it was Steve’s face that filled the screen instead. You flung your legs over the edge of the sofa and sat upright, nervously tapping the bottom of your mug with your fingernails. This could only be bad news.

Forcing yourself to keep a calm exterior, you said stiffly, “Captain. Is everything alright? What happened?”

“There were complications with the mission, Y/N.”

“Is Tony okay?”

“He’s fine, as far as I know.” You let out the breath you’d been holding and leant towards Loki, who squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “He and the others stayed behind to assist with the clean up. I’ve only got Wanda, Vision and Bucky with me.”

It took you less than a second to work out what bothered you about that group of people being in the same jet. No matter your personal issues with them, even you had to admit that Wanda and Vision were two of the strongest people on the team. With their abilities, it could only mean one thing that they were there with him and no one else. “What happened to Bucky, Cap? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive. Just sedated.”

“What happened to Bucky, Steve?”

“The mission was rough. It wasn’t easy on any of us but Buck especially… Wanda’s keeping him out cold until we get back to the Compound. I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I don’t know what else to do. If there were any other choice…”

Biting the inside of your cheek so hard that you drew blood, you hissed, “What happened, Steve?”

“He’s back, Y/N. The Soldier resurfaced and you’re the only one who can deal with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop me a comment and let me know what you think! Thank you for reading <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of PTSD, past physical and mental abuse, mentions of death

Bucky looked so peacefully laying there. Strands of dark hair hand come loose and fallen over his face, softening the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes did not flutter, his mind free of the nightmares which usually plagued his sleep. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly as he drew breath, the poster boy for a perfect sleep.

But all of that simply served to hide the truth.

His skin was filthy, the thick layer of dust hiding the heavy bruising that was beginning to show. Dried blood flaked around his hairline, a mixture of dark smudges from multiple sources. Caught beneath his short nails and trapped within the joints of his metal arm was more blood and dirt, the once shining metal now dull.

You rested your forehead against the cold, thick window of the cell door, the heat radiating from your skin until the glass fogged up. It felt like a barrier between you and Bucky, one that you may never break through. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, spinning around with a blade ready to fight back. 

“Hey now, it’s just me,” Steve said, prying the dagger from your fingers and haphazardly tossing it aside. It vanished from existence almost immediately, your control shaky at best with everything else clouding your thoughts. “I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this, Y/N, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Will it just wear off?”

“The last time we tried waiting out the Soldier, we sat around for weeks before he tried to escape. Nearly destroyed the whole Compound in the process. He won’t let go easily.”

“Why do you think he’ll let go for me?”

“You knew each other before all this. I’m hoping you can reason with him.” You could tell from his voice that Steve thought that as unlikely an outcome as you.

“And if I can’t?”

“You are one of the best fighters I have ever met. Make him let go.”

If only it were that easy. Sure, you’d been able to hold your own against the Soldier before but things had changed since then. You were no longer a mindless puppet whose orders were to win or die trying. As brief and fleeting as the feelings may be, you did occasionally possess a desire to live and avoid doing yourself harm. Every rational cell in your body was telling you to back away from this before you got hurt. To be selfish and save yourself. No one on the team would judge you harshly for making that call, not after everything you’d been through. They would understand.

And you knew that you should feel the same way but seeing Bucky lying there reminded you too much of the past. Of the many nights that you had spent in your cell with the Soldier, silently plotting and praying for a way to escape. The years you’d clung to that final shred of hope, knowing against the odds that someone would come.

Everyday they didn’t made it harder to continue, to keep going and not lost the fight to just end it all, until you barely knew yourself anymore. You woke up each morning, trapped in the empty cage that was your body, and watched as you committed the worst atrocities, a prisoner in your own body.

If Bucky was still in there, he would be feeling these exact same things, just as you had nonstop for six years. And if you knew anything, it was that you couldn’t stand aside and subject anyone else to that kind of torture. You had to help.

Looking up to Steve, you mumbled, “I’ll do it.”

“No, you will not!” Tony yelled, bursting in through the door, still wearing his armour. Obviously the second jet had arrived back. His voice distorted by his mask, Tony stormed over to your side and said, “You are not going in there.”

“It’s my decision. You won’t change my mind.”

“Y/N, you did not see what he did out there in the field,” Tony said, his helmet vanishing. You immediately looked away so not to see the genuine and overwhelming concern in his eyes. He gently rested his hand on your arm and said, “You cannot go in there unarmed. The Soldier will butcher you and I can’t lose any more of my family to him.”

“I won’t be unarmed.”

“Your daggers won’t do shit against him, kiddo, and you know it.”

“They seemed to do the job back when I was with HYDRA,” you spat, immediately regretting the ferocity with which the words had come out. “What do you suggest, Tony? Really? It doesn’t matter what I go in there with. When it comes down to it, it won’t be the weapons that sway the fight. Just let me do this.”

“I won’t stop you, Y/N, but I will ask you don’t go in there without protection.”

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by FRIDAY, who apparently understood Tony’s plan before either you or Steve managed to cotton on. “Are you sure that’s a good plan, boss? It’s not been properly tested or debugged since the last update…”

That was when understanding hit.

Tony wanted you to wear the suit he’d made for you.

A chill ran up your spine at the thought of being trapped inside a tin can, sweat beginning to show on your brow. You didn’t want to feel that metal against your skin, caging you in with no way to escape its cold touch. Just another artificial extension of yourself, designed with no other motive in mind that to injure and kill. You wouldn’t… Couldn’t…

“Hey, sweetie, calm down,” Tony said, taking a slow step forward. He froze when he caught the glint of the dagger in your hand, worried what you were currently willing to do in this obviously fragile state of mind. With a mere thought, his armour disappeared and if you hadn’t been so close to a panic attack you would have been extremely interested in the technology.

No protection other than his hope that there was still enough of you in there to recognise him as a friend not foe, Tony took your empty hand and squeezed it tightly. He looked you dead in the eye, practically pleading with you to reconsider. “Stay with me, kiddo. Look around you. You’re in the Compound. You are safe. I’m not going to hurt you. The suit won’t hurt you, either. I promise. It will keep you safe.”

“I can’t wear it, Tony.”

“Y/N, you are being unreasonable. Please, listen…”

“No! You listen!” you yelled, shoving him away.

Tony hit the wall with a thud, only saved from major damage by his armour rematerialising quickly enough to absorb the brunt of the impact. Steve was by his side instantly, reluctantly recognising you as a threat. He took an offensive posture which you immediately matched but, before either of you could attack, Tony stumbled between you and held his hand in the air.

His helmet receding, while the rest of his armour remained, Tony said, “Enough. We are all going through some pretty major emotions right now but we can’t turn on each other. Steve, go and find Wanda. See if she and Natasha are any nearer to figuring out a way to force the Soldier back.”

The Captain nodded in agreement, although he was clearly unhappy about leaving Tony alone with you in this state. He knew that you wouldn’t hurt Tony but deep down feared that seeing Bucky this way might be enough to push you over the edge. If that happened, then they would have a far more serious problem on their hands than a sleeping Soldier. One, they could just about handle without fatalities. But two? Someone would certainly end up dead and he feared it would be you.

The moment you were alone, you dropped your dagger and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Tony said, his practicality surprising you out of your guilt. “Barnes will wake up any minute now. When he does, you need to…”

“The Soldier,” you interrupted, earning you a confused look. “Not Bucky. The Soldier. I know what I need to do, Tony. There is only one way I’m getting through to him. And it’s not going to happen while I wear your armour. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…”

“You need to leave. Don’t argue.” Your hard tone was more than enough to dry up whatever argument Tony had been about to make. If there was one thing that you were certain of, it was that he could not be around to watch this. There would be no way that he would stay back. He would see you bloody and bruised and not be able to keep himself from intervening and that would put everything at risk.

No. Tony had to leave. You could see in his eyes that he understood but that didn’t mean he liked it. Not one bit. Still, you had to make it as easy on him as possible so you wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered something in his ear, making him promise to do exactly as you asked.

When you pulled away, Tony caught you arm and asked hesitantly, “Are you sure about that? Really? That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re sure… I’ll make the proper arrangements. I love you, kiddo.”

You simply nodded, unable to respond in any way. No matter what you said to him it would sound like a goodbye and you didn’t want that. You couldn’t do that to him. Instead, you turned your back to him and wiped the tears from your eyes, holding it in your heart that he would do exactly as he promised when this was all over.

The second you heard the door shut behind you, you ordered FRIDAY to terminate all cameras and sensors in this part of the Compound. You stabbed the locking mechanism on the door with a blade to ensure that no one could get in and try to stop you from doing what had to be done. It took less than a minute to rewire the cables around the door to create a kind of barrier that would stop Vision from phasing through.

That done, convinced you had taken sufficient measures to keep the others safely locked out, you closed your eyes and focused on the memories you had tried so hard to block out. The feelings of power, determination. You watched the way you fought without emotion and focused on the task ahead with the same single mindedness. It didn’t matter how you felt. This was a mission and there were two possible outcomes: success or failure. Only one of those was an acceptable option.

An empty calmness settled over you like a familiar blanket. Your artificial joints clicked into place, tightening in anticipation for the fight to come. The implants released wave after wave of chemicals that kicked your system into overdrive while somehow maintaining a strict level of composure. Your mind cleared itself of inconsequential worries. There was but one thought in your head now: stop the Soldier.

You unlocked the door to his cell with your handprint and for a terrible moment thought that Tony had taken you off the database to stop you from going through with this suicidal plan of yours. However, that doubt faded when a second later the interface flashed green and the heavy door swung open.

Hardly a millisecond after the latch clicked shut, a pair of hands latched around your throat, pressing your back firmly against the door and cutting off your air supply. His fingers squeezed tightly, working hard to crush your windpipe before you could fight back. However, you were too quick for that. You brought the sides of your hands down against his elbows with so much force that the joints certainly cracked but it was barely enough to get him to release his hold.

Stumbling further into the prison cell, you righted your balance and summoned a sharp dagger in each hand. You didn’t need to wait for him to come at you. The Soldier leapt forward the instant after he recognised the new threat. He dodged your sweeping attack and, spotting an opening in the way you dropped your left guard, grabbed your wrist and twisted it as far as it would go until you had no choice but to release the weapon in your hand.

The Soldier kicked the blade behind him and then ducked away to give him the time to pick it up before charging back at you. He blocked every single one of your attacks with machine like precision but he was far from being on the defensive. Constantly swiping at you with the sharp, serrated blade, he was herding you into a corner in a valiant attempt to limit your movement.

You’d guessed that he would do that, though, and were prepared. With a swift jab of the hilt to his face, you dropped your dagger, effortlessly caught it in your other hand, and pushed the blade into his side. The Soldier barely winced as he pulled it from his abdomen but the momentary distraction gave you enough time to slip from his grasp.

The bloody daggers in his hands, he charged at you once again. He’d taken three steps at most before you flicked your wrists and watched the daggers vanish from his grasp, sent back to the cold nothingness of the void, wiped out of existence by your thoughts alone. Their disappearance shocked the Soldier but he recovered almost instantly, continuing in his attack and knocking you square on the jaw with his fists instead.

Blood poured down out of your nose but the shock barely registered, your implants blocking out almost all of the pain. Still, it did little to disguise the metallic taste on your lips. All you could do was spit the blood from your mouth and keep fighting. You brought your elbow up beneath his chin, which made him stumble back just enough to give you the room to land a kick directly to his chest.

With a flick of your wrists, you conjured a new pair of daggers and leapt forward. You slashed a blade across his cheek, the sharp edge making a deep incision in the skin just below his eye. It would do no real damage but was in the perfect position to make the involuntary twitches that came with the injury quite the distraction.

The Soldier was not so easily deterred, though. Blocking your fierce cutting attacks with his vibranium arm, he punched you in the ear with more than enough force to knock you off balance. His thick arm latched around your throat from behind, pulling you tightly against his chest. As your vision began to blur, you fought to crouch down and with a burst of strength managed to fling him over your head. The floor trembled beneath your feet at the impact but you wasted no time in topping him, clambering on his chest and pinning him down. You held a blade to his throat with one hand and used the other to press down on a very specific nerve at the join between flesh and metal.

His body went limp and you were almost grateful that that trick still worked. It had been a bit of a long shot, in truth. You’d seen HYDRA scientists use that pressure point on multiple occasions to neutralise the threat; an effective “off” switch which they’d created to deal with him when no other methods of control worked.

“Let him go,” you hissed. You pressed the blade harder against his throat, feeling the muscles in his body tense as the Soldier prepared to force his way out from beneath you. “You aren’t protecting him from anything. He is safe here.”

“Nowhere is safe while you are alive,” the Soldier replied stiffly. You were vaguely aware that he was speaking Russian but were fluent in so many dialects that understanding his words was no issue. What was more concerning was the coldness in his voice, sharp as the knives in your hands. While you’d harboured no illusions of safety before, you suddenly realised just how quickly he would kill you if you gave him the chance.

“I won’t hurt him. I would never.” You increased the pressure on the cluster of nerves in his shoulder, all too aware of how it no longer seemed to keeping down. Clearly the handlers had meant for it to be a short term solution rather than a method of keeping him at bay for long periods of time (if thirty seconds could be considered a long time).

“You words are lies.”

“Let him go, Soldier,” you insisted, breaking the skin at the base of his neck without a second thought. This was a matter of control and you could not afford to lose the small advantage you had over him. It was slipping, though, and you knew that. So, you pressed down harder still on his shoulder, embedding your blade firmly in joint, even through the bone, until it was lodged in there.

The Soldier didn’t flinch. In fact, he barely seemed to notice the blood pouring from the wounds. The mechanisms in his shoulder, where flesh met metal and was most vulnerable, were readjusting themselves, slowly but surely working the serated blade out of his body. Harsh scratching sounds of metal grating against metal filled the small space as he grunted, “I do not follow your orders.”

“I am not your enemy, Soldier, but if you do not stand down, I will - ”

You never had the chance to finish your threat. With a burst of sudden strength, the Soldier pushed you off his body with such force that you were flung across the room. The reinforced concrete shattered upon impact, dust raining down above you. It got everywhere - your mouth, your lungs, your eyes. It settled on your skin, covering every inch of your bleeding flesh until you looked like a zombie, fresh from clawing its way out the ground.

A thick hand curled around your neck, so tight that you instinctively knew there would be no clever escape from this. However, as his fingers dug bruisingly hard into your skin, you could feel them trembling. As if he wasn’t entirely committed. As if, maybe, Bucky was still in there, trying to fight the Soldier himself.

It was a long shot but it was all that you had left.

Fighting your muscles as they turned to lead from a lack of oxygen, you lifted your hands to his face and rested your fingers on his temples. You focused all of your remaining strength on your powers, drawing on them and pushing your way into the Soldier’s mind. The cell vanished and you were surrounded by a freezing void, darkness stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction.

You were alone here. There was nothing left of the Soldier to reason with. You couldn’t find a single sign that Bucky had ever been here. Except… Somewhere, in the furthest corner of his mind, there was a warmth so at odds with the rest of the emptiness. A dim glow, calling to you like a distant lighthouse called to a sailor lost in the storm.

The moment you reached for it, though, you were forced from his mind. Your body couldn’t sustain itself any longer without oxygen. Your lungs were burning, tearing themselves apart in a failed attempt to make that last breath last. Your eyes were bulging out of their sockets and you could feel each and every tiny blood vessel bursting as you frantically searched for a way to escape.

But this was it, you realised.

There was no escaping now.

You’d been prepared for this. You had known from the moment that you’d stepped into the cell - and even before that, if you were being truthful - that there was only one way this would end. The Soldier would not rest until he saw you dead.

Surprisingly, that fact brought you tremendous peace. For the first time, there was something in your life that was certain. You had chosen to follow this path and that was okay. Maybe if circumstances had been different there would be another way out of this but with everything that you and the Soldier had been through, everything you’d done together, done to each other, this had always been the way it would end.

You met his angry and hateful gaze fearlessly, facing him down with an unwavering stare of your own. You stopped fighting, relaxing your muscles and accepted the inevitable. So much of your life had been spent in the company of death that you were prepared. You would go gently into the night and not give him the satisfaction of an easy victory.

Time slowed to a halt, the space between heartbeats seeming like an eternity. With your final breath, barely more than a whisper as you embraced the darkness, you spoke the words that he dreaded to hear: “I forgive you.” 

It all went dark after that.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back after a very long hiatus on this story, it won't be on the same update schedule as it was before but it'll probably be a couple of chapters a month so long as I can stay on top of everything. Please let me know what you think, kind words and feedback will definitely help in the speedy writing on this.

“FRIDAY, have you got a visual yet?”

“I’m working on it, boss, but she well and truly fried the systems.”

The screen embedded in the desk shattered when Tony slammed his fist down on the worktop. If circumstances had been different, Tony would have been pleased to see that his prototype self healing glass was functioning properly. Now, though, there were far bigger concerns on his mind than the wonder of nanotechnology pulling a broken screen back together. 

He turned away from the terminal, subconsciously tracing the network of scars on his palm with his thumb as he forced himself to breathe. Tony checked his watch for the tenth time in the past two minutes, cursing his incompetence. He knew every inch of the Compound and yet he still hadn’t found a way to bypass your security measures and get a visual on you and Bucky in the cells. Every second he wasted messing around here in the lab was one he wasn’t with you.

“Bring up the schematics for the secondary power grid.”

Tony stared at the holographic projection and began to highlight seemingly random sections, turning them from blue to orange. It took his AI less than three seconds to recognise the pattern and FRIDAY filled in the rest of the design without needing to consult him. The separate points joined together in a new circuit, twisting through the Compound to create an alternate path to the CCTV feed in the cells.

“Will that work?” he asked. Tony had already started on a back up to this solution in case it proved unfeasible and was just waiting for FRIDAY’s confirmation. If it came to it, he would plug himself into the Compound’s wiring and send the nanobots in his chest to fix the video link.

He was mocking up a device to make his robots compatible with the system. It was crude and the process would absolutely not be pain free - even after all the operations to correct the worst injuries, Tony’s body had been through a lot and those tiny bots were all that kept him from howling out in agony every time he moved - but at this point Tony would put his own health on the back bench without a second thought if it meant confirming you were safe.

“Success rate is about 75% chance, boss. Some of those wires on the lower levels were severely damaged when Y/N overloaded the system. Even rerouting the way we plan, I can’t say for sure that it’ll work.”

“Make it work, FRIDAY. I have to see her. I have to know that she’s alright.” Tony didn’t turn when he heard the door to the lab slide open. Instead, he busied himself with finishing the task at hand. The metal sheets were heavy in his hands, the smooth surfaces cool and familiar against his skin. “Piss off, Steve.”

“Y/N will be okay.”

Tony laughed harshly. “You’re many things, Cap, but I never thought you were stupid.”

Steve hovered at the edge of the lab. It was the smart decision. Neither of them knew what Tony was capable of in this situation and it was for the best that the Captain made as few moves as possible. With his nerves frayed down to their absolute limit, Tony was a ticking time bomb. It was only a matter of time before something set him off and his fragile control shattered.

He kept his shield by his feet. It was just a precaution, a sensible step to take, but the threat still hung heavily in the air. Steve was not afraid to use it, if there was no other option. He had before. He would again. If Tony stepped out of line, he would do what needed to be done to protect his friend.

“She’s capable of defending herself better than any of us, Tony.”

“That’s not the point. Y/N is all the family I have left and you sent her in there with him.”

The Captain’s fingers tightened on the edge of his shield. “I thought we were over that.”

“It isn’t about that. This is about Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Tony, but it was the only way.”

Tony dropped the screwdriver in his hand. The metal tip clattered as it hit the ground, the harsh sound echoing in the heavy silence. It would be so easy to grab the tool and lodge it in Steve’s chest. After everything the Captain had done, what he’d risked, who he’d risked, Tony was certain he deserved nothing less. His hand twitched by his side, the ultimate test of his control.

He wanted to do it. The desire to see Steve hurt the way he was hurting was so overpowering. It would be so easy to make the Captain bleed but he couldn’t. It was no solution to the problem. The priority was getting you out of there. You would never forgive him if he gave in to the darkness. There was already enough guilt floating around the Compound, without him acting irrationally and adding more.

His hand closed around the screwdriver handle so tightly that it almost shattered. “No, Steve. It wasn’t. Again. You chose Barnes _again_. You didn’t consider the other options. You put him first and didn’t think of the costs. He’s going to kill her. She is a child. You guilted a child to fight the monster that has haunted her for the past six years.”

“She can handle herself, Tony. She isn’t a child anymore and I know you feel some parental responsibility…” Steve caught sight of Tony’s furious expression reflected in a computer screen and immediately changed tact. “Y/N was a Soldier, too.”

“And that kills her a little bit every day!” Tony yelled. He slammed the tool against the bench, breaking the handle clean off. “You were there to help Barnes through those first few years. You know how deep that conditioning runs. How much pain it inflicts. Y/N could barely look in the mirror without seeing all the terrible things they made her do. You knew that and yet you pushed her to go in and face everything she’d been moving on from before she was ready.”

“She chose! This isn’t all on me, Tony. She knew the risks.”

“Did you? She is going to die. Whether he physically kills her or not, there is no coming back from this mentally. All the progress that Y/N has made over the past few months, that is gone forever now.”

“She survived HYDRA. She can survive this.”

“Stop talking like this is going to be easy for her! Not everyone is as strong as you, Steve! Whether you have noticed or not, Starks aren’t the perfect poster models for mental strength and stability. Not everyone can just shove away the pain. We can’t pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

“You think it’s easy for me? It eats me up from the inside. Every day. I remember what we did and what we lost and it destroys me to know that I’ve had a part in any of this. I am not perfect, either, Tony. I understand. But Y/N will be okay. She is strong.”

“Not strong enough to stay here with him.”

“What?”

“We’re leaving. She asked me to take her away. To take myself away because lord knows that the next time I see Barnes I am going to want to kill him for hurting her.”

“It’s the Soldier. Not Bucky.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” Tony said quietly.

He knew because he faced up to that pain every single day. He’d hidden it in all the usual ways but having Bucky in the Compound had never been easy, no matter what he’d convinced the rest of the team. To look into the eyes of the man who killed his parents over breakfast, to watch that man laughing and smiling, to see him living his life when he victims never could, it was the hardest thing in the world. Terrible situations aside, it didn’t change what happened. Just because he didn’t blame Bucky for the actions of HYDRA or the Soldier didn’t mean he’d forgiven him. How could he?

Time didn’t heal the wounds but it had made Tony numb to them. He’d gotten used to being near Bucky and had forced himself to build some kind of relationship with the man. It was only after you were found did Tony really start to see Bucky as something other than a killing machine. He saw a side to him that he could never have imagined. Gentle. Caring. Loving, even.

That’s what made this all so difficult now. Tony had allowed himself to see Bucky as a real person, something other than the shadow of a man that HYDRA had left, and then it had all fallen apart. The illusion had shattered and they had all seen the monster beneath the surface.

No matter what Bucky projected, what he and Steve and all the others claimed, the Soldier would always be there. They had been forced together for too long and had become dependent on the other. They were one and the same. Bucky would always hurt the people around him, whether he meant to or not, because that is what the Soldier did.

The rest of the team could pretend it was fine. In fact, Tony was certain that that was exactly what they’d do. They would convince themselves to forgive and offer their fragile hearts to the broken man in the cells. They would see past the shadows and appeal to Bucky’s better nature. They might even believe that he could win out over the Soldier.

Tony never could, though. He couldn’t look past that face and see anything but the Soldier. Not now. The monster was all he saw, all he’d ever see, and, chances were, you would feel the same way, too. It was better for everyone that you both left the Compound, whether Steve agreed or not.

Returning his gaze to the half finished device on his worktop, Tony gathered himself and said stiffly, “We’re leaving and I respectfully ask that you let us.”

“Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. Just let Y/N and I leave without getting in our way and maybe we’ll come back, eventually.”

“ _Maybe_?” Steve exclaimed so loudly that it made Tony jump in his seat. “You’re a part of this team, Stark! You can’t just leave! What if we need you?”

The urge to roll his eyes was overwhelming. Tony had lost count of the number of times that people had told him the Avengers would be better off without him. He was just a man in a suit of armour. He wasn’t a leader or a spy or even remotely useful. Anyone could do what he did. Now it was time for the team to put that theory to the test.

“Make do. There are enough of us that being down one won’t matter. And if it does? Find a replacement. Powered people are everywhere now. Put a billboard up and advertise. I don’t know, Steve. Frankly, at this point, I don’t care, either. I am leaving and I am taking Y/N with me. You will not follow us.”

“Boss,” FRIDAY said, cutting off whatever futile argument Steve had been about to make. “Cameras are up and running. We’ve got eyes on the cell.”

It took a few seconds for the images to sharpen up but it was obvious what was happening long before the pictures became clear. Every surface was covered in thick red smears. There were deep scratch marks on the ground where the Soldier had dug his fingers in to the tiles. One of the walls had a person sized hole in it, exposing the reinforced concrete.

Bucky - the Soldier - had you in a choke hold against the wall. He towered over you, his enormous frame dwarfing you completely. It would almost be comical to watch such a small fighter hold their own against a beast like him if the situation weren’t so dire.

His metal hand trembled, the tiny joints in the artificial fingers clicking into place as they dug into your throat. Something was wrong.

You lifted your hands to his temples, the effort almost enough to knock you out, and your expression went blank. Your eyes drifted shut, thoughts and memories flowing freely between you and the Soldier. No matter how often Tony saw you perform such a feat it never became easier to watch. He knew it was painful, sharing your mind with someone else.

Against the wall, your body went slack.

Tony’s eyes burnt as tears filled his vision. He was going to be sick. This was worse than Afghanistan. Worse than seeing the video of his parents’ deaths. He couldn’t watch but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, either. Maybe… Maybe you would break free, as you had clearly done before, and get out of there to safety.

All you had to do was summon a dagger. You wouldn’t though. This wasn’t an escape attempt. You weren’t waiting for a moment of weakness from the Soldier. There wasn’t going to be another attack. You had accepted your fate and stopped fighting. This was it.

There was no audio but Tony heard your neck snap anyway.

“Tony…”

“I swear, Rogers, if you don’t step out of my way right now.” His entire body was encased by armour before Steve’s fingers had so much as twitched against the edge of his shield. Tony stretched his arm out between them, the warning clear. Words distorted by the face plate, disguising the tremble in his voice, he said, “I will not ask again. Move.”

The Captain had no intention of stepping away from the door, despite Tony’s warning. He shouldn’t, therefore, have been surprised when his teammate took at shot at him. It hit the centre of the shield, sending Steve staggering backwards. He pushed off of the back door and launched himself at Tony but wasn’t quite fast enough. He barely dodged the energy blast, twisting awkwardly and landing in a pile of scrap parts.

Tony didn’t wait for Steve to get up. He was out the door and rounded the corridor, shouting at his AI as he flew through the Compound. “FRIDAY, seal the lab doors. Don’t let Rogers out until we’re gone. Locate the others, too. Stop them from interfering.”

“You’ve got it. Scans show that the Cap received has sustained no major injuries.”

“Good.” Tony let out a deep breath. The guilt of attacking his teammate and friend (however strained their relationship could be at times) subsided enough for Tony to ignore the heaviness in his chest. His gaze flickered to the camera feed of the cell, to your limp body in the corner of the room. That tightness in his chest returned in full force. “Fri, unwrap Y/N’s suit. Get the jet ready and programme the coordinates. I don’t want to be stuck waiting around.”

He came to a halt at the cell door and immediately tried to blast it off its hinges. However, the energy beam just rebounded and hit him square in the chest. The entire hallway seemed to shake when he hit the concrete wall. Tony pushed himself upright and slammed his fist against the control panel for the door. “For god sake, FRIDAY, open this fucking door.”

The cracked panel began to flicker as the AI worked at finding a way to disable your security measures. Not fast enough for Tony, he tapped the casing between his ribs and ordered his nanobots to just decimate the wires around the door and get him inside.

Sincerely concerned, FRIDAY said gently, “Boss, take a breath. Your heart rate is going crazy.”

“Of course it is, Fri. You think I should be calm in this situation?”

“You’re no good to Y/N in this state.” FRIDAY paused, as if was weighing up the risks of asking the obvious question. “Do you want me to call Ms Potts and alert her to the situation?”

“Pepper is busy. She’s got a big meeting. I’m fine,” Tony said, more to himself than his AI. He couldn’t bring Pepper in on this, anyway. It would break her. She was strong but he had already put her through so much. And there was no way that she would agree with your plan. She would argue it the entire way and Tony was just too tired to fight her well meaning protests. Shaking his head, he said, “I’m fine. I’ll call her when we arrive. Just… Send her a message and tell her I love her and I’ll see her soon.”

“Will do, boss.” FRIDAY was about as sad as an computer programme could sound, the gravity of the situation resting heavy on the AI’s artificial heart. “The forcefield is down. Door’s unlocked.”

Tony blasted the door off its hinges, a twisted satisfaction warming his chest at debris which now rained down inside in the cell. He pressed his hand against the scanner for the inner door and the screen changed colour immediately, granting him access despite the attempts of Steve (still trapped in the lab) to lock Tony out of the security system.

The entire world went still when Tony stepped inside the cell. He’d seen it on the video feed but that had done nothing to prepare him for the awful reality. You were laying broken in the far corner, limbs twisted into all manner of unnatural positions. Every inch of your body was either sporting cuts or bruises so deep that they went all the way down to the bone.

You’d told Tony about the implants that HYDRA had forced inside of you but part of Tony had hoped, naively, that it hadn’t been true. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought that you’d been through that kind of torture. Face to face with them now, the shining metal surfaces protruding out from beneath your shredded skin, there was no way he could deny the horrors you must have seen.

And then there was him.

Bucky was curled up in the corner of the room, staring blankly into space. Blood poured from a wound on his shoulder where the metal wiring had been torn from his flesh. You’d gotten a good few hits on him but he was in nowhere near the state you were.

His entire assessment of the scene took less than a second, after which he instantly drew his arm back to attack the man - the monster - responsible for hurting you. There was a resistance as he charged his blaster like his suit was fighting against him. He could feel the power being forcibly drawn in to other systems in the armour.

Tony pushed harder, driven by a burning anger which overrode all sensibility. His entire arm shaking, the built up of energy almost too much to contain, Tony gripped his forearm to steady the blaster and hissed, “Take the goddamn shot, FRIDAY.”

“Scans show Sergeant Barnes is no threat.” FRIDAY’s words fell on deaf ears so the AI overrode Tony’s control of his suit and forceably opened his helmet. “Look at him, boss. He is out of it. He is no threat to you or Y/N. Focus on her. Get her to safety. You promised her.”

It was a low blow but guilt tripping Tony did the trick. It momentarily snapped Tony out of his blinding rage and reminded him what was important. He called your suit down from storage and it arrived mere moments later. The metal armour opened up and hovered over you as it scanned your limp body.

Calibrated perfectly, it fit like a second skin. Application was quick and efficient, just as it had been designed to be, but Tony still worried that he’d made a mistake in its construction and that this would only make your condition worse. “Be careful with her, Fri.”

“It’s alright, boss. You made the suit to her measurements and it fits like a glove. Everything is in place and we’re ready to move on your mark.”

“Get her to the jet,” Tony ordered, his gaze once again fixed on Bucky.

“No can do. There’s only enough power in the thrusters to get her upright. There wasn’t time to charge it up properly. You’ll need to carry her, boss. The suit will keep her neck steady so it’s safe to move her.”

Tony cursed under his breath. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be?”

“You’re making me leave so that I don’t kill him while he’s down.”

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re on about, boss, but if that were what I was doing I’d say you’re lucky that you’ve got a friend to stop you from doing something that you’d regret.”

In moments like this, Tony wished that he hadn’t done such a great job at creating his AIs. They cared about him too much and, unlike most people he knew who fled in difficult times, they were always there for him. Compassionate. Firm. Understanding. Even when he didn’t deserve that kind of love, they never let him down. They really were the best of him.

Following FRIDAY’s orders, he put you over his shoulder, deliberately slow and gentle in his movements despite the fact that the AI had confirmed you were now safely held in stasis. Carrying your unconscious body through the Compound wasn’t easy but Tony made it to the flight bay a few minutes later.

He laid your body down in the back of the Quinjet, using moments that he didn’t have to spare to find you a pillow and a blanket. It was irrational when the suit would keep you warm and stable but it was easier for Tony to believe that you were just sleeping this way. He crouched down and placed a kiss on the top of your helmet. Squeezing your stiff hand, Tony whispered, “You’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

The radar beeped to signal the incoming arrival of the other team’s jet so Tony jumped into the pilots seat and quickly checked all the systems over. He had to leave before they arrived or they would try to stop him, just as Steve had done. “We ready, Fri?”

“The flight path has been cleared but… Are you sure this is where we wanna go, boss? The intel on that area hasn’t been updated in years. There’s no way of knowing whether it’s…”

“I know it’s not ideal and we don’t know what we’re walking into but it’s what she asked for.” Tony glanced back over his shoulder to where you were resting. “I promised and I can’t imagine Y/N would have me take her there if it wasn’t secure.”

“Okay,” FRIDAY replied. Fully integrated into the Quinjet as the AI now was, Tony could sense the trepidation of his co-pilot in the uneven way that the engines stirred and the warning lights flickered on the board around him. “Course set for Sumatra, the HYDRA base Nemesis. Estimated time until arrival: Five hours and thirty-seven minutes.”


End file.
